


Souls To Which You Tether Your Humanity

by Zookcan



Category: Dororo (Anime 2019), Kubo and the Two Strings (2016)
Genre: Blood, Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Demons, Dismemberment, Drowning, Found Family, Gen, MASSIVE Spoilers for Kubo and the Two Strings so I recommend you've watched that, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Platonic Relationships, Possible spoilers for Dororo 2019, Reconciliation, fuedal japan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-02-19 04:33:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22538584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zookcan/pseuds/Zookcan
Summary: In which Hyakkimaru and Dororo are joined by a young boy with a shamisen, and the determination to save the last of his loved ones.
Relationships: Dororo & Hyakkimaru (Dororo) & Kubo, Kubo & Raiden (Kubo and the Two Strings)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 44





	1. A Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief cold open focusing on Kubo, and the unfamiliar sense of being on his own.

Tonight the fire in his heart lies dormant.

There is no warm fire at the edge of his feet, only the cold smoothness of a wooden floor and whatever warmth a single blanket has to offer him. No waves to beckon him to sleep, just the soft white noise of nighttime and the very distant chirping of crickets. No view of a vast ocean illuminated by moonlight - only the drab colors of the shoji across the room, bleakly filtering the light of a candle outside. All in all his room is cool, quiet, and quaint, and he very quickly _despises_ it.  
  
Not that such a spartan little room upset him by design. It comes with a bed, its doors and windows keep the draft from blowing in, and the roof is free of any leaks. It is average, but far more comfortable than what he is used to. No, the room does not bother him at all, but the silence does.  
  
This was his first night alone.  
  
The emptiness of solitude was a feeling Kubo never thought he'd loathe. Granted, he'd never gone a day in his life without someone for company. For the past twelve years he had always come home to a loved one, and they'd eat together, and they'd sit at the edge of a makeshift hearth and exchange stories. He'd fall asleep to the sound of the ocean outside their cliffside home, breathing in the comforting scents of sea-salt and charcoal. The warmth that lingered off the dying flames kept him comfortable for the night -- and even if he'd wake to a bad dream, there was always someone _there,_ sleeping nearby. Someone whose presence alone could ease his childish fears.

Perhaps all these years, Kubo had taken it for granted. Even after his grandfather had taken his mother's place, the routine had scarcely changed. Perhaps, even after all these years, he still yearns for dependency. Kubo is, after all, still only twelve.  
  
To ease his anxiety, he works with sheets of origami. There is paper loosely stacked in the blue cloth he used for a rucksack and slips tucked away in the pockets of his kimono sleeves. His fingers shape red patterned paper into the familiar figure of a samurai. When its finished, he slips partway under his blanket, and clutches the figure in his hand.

The gentle shuffle of geta on wood outside of his room prompts Kubo to shift under his blanket. The innkeeper is still awake, and blowing out candles as he passes by. Kubo rolls onto his side, tugging the sleeves of his robes further down his arms. He brings one up to his nose and takes a deep breath; although its laced with sweat and wild grasses from the day's travel, the smell of sea salt and a bonfire still clings to it. It reminds him of home.  
  
As Kubo tucks his arm beneath his head, he brings the little paper samurai closer to his face, brushing his thumb across it fondly. Tonight, it is the only thing that coaxes him to sleep.

* * *

If there is one thing that strikes a familiar nerve, it is a crowd. The village he'd stayed in is not his own, but is no less busy than his hometown in its better days. The marketplace here is bustling, filled with peasants who browse eagerly and merchants poised to offer their wares. For Kubo, who is looking particularly exhausted from a poor night's sleep, it is a welcome change.  
  
He has to shove his way through several of the locals, which Kubo does with surprising grace, and eventually he finds the stand with cheap manju buns that he had been eyeing the afternoon before. He purchases two for himself. The merchant glances over his belongings with brows raised.  
  
"That's a beautifully kept shamisen you have there. I haven't seen one in a long while."  
  
While sinking his teeth into one of the manju, Kubo's eye darts towards the sao of the instrument strapped to his back. Its sheen betrays how old it truly is, and its good condition confutes the damage it has taken. An ordinary shamisen would not have survived the ordeals its been put through, and indeed, it was not an ordinary shamisen. "Thank you, I do what I can to take care of it. How much further is the Kaga Province from here?"  
  
"Ah, further north. A little ways past the mountain. But I wouldn't go there on my own if I were you. The roads are no place for children."  
"Thank you, sir."  
  
Kubo offers them no other comment, in spite the man's warning. As he turns away he catches a glimpse of the merchant's wandering eyes, where they find the scabbard fastened to his hip. The Sword Unbreakable stands out more than his shamisen does, for its size and remarkable gleam strikes against his small frame and dull silks. Yet the boy simply smiles and takes another bite into his manju.

* * *

The early morning slowly turns to day. He's sat himself on the porch of a nearby building at the end of the marketplace, and once he's finished his snack he's left to count the coin he still has. Kubo had left a sizable sum of money back home, with which the villagers could use to look after his grandfather. The rest he took with him. It wasn't an ample amount, what he had; he had to give up a lot to pay for a bed at the inn, and he figures he will need to save up more if he is going to make the rest of journey to Daigo's territory safely.  
  
The boy draws his tongue over his lips in thought; there is only enough to fit in his palm. Thinking, he slips his shamisen strap up over his shoulder and slings the instrument across his lap, crossing one leg over the other to cradle it. Of course he had his own strategy for earning money when he is in pickles like these, and it was the same one he had used since he was younger. But would it work in an unfamiliar town?  
  
After about twenty seconds of pondering, Kubo lifts his instrument by the sao and makes for a less crowded patch of the marketplace. He unties the makeshift pouch across his torso and unfolds it, revealing the stacks of paper that had been stored inside. He pulls out his bachi from the sash around his waist and lifts it into the air, poised to come down across the silken strings once more.  
  
"If you must blink, do it now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it, the first in a collection of one-shots / chapters. I say one-shots because this series won't necessarily have an ending or end goal -- while some chapters may take a story approach (primarily to explain why Kubo is out on his own,) these are mostly one shots featuring his interactions with his future travel companions. You guys will find out eventually why Kubo left his home and what he's after, and as you can see he hasn't encountered Hyakkimaru and Dororo yet. I already have the first few shots planned out, don't you worry!
> 
> In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed this brief introduction. Comments, constructive critique and kudos are greatly appreciated!


	2. A River

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While tending to himself at the bank of a river, Kubo has his first encounter with the unexpected.

His forehead beads with sweat from the heat.

Summer is not even in full swing yet but the sticky air heralds its approach, tempting him to abandon the heavy layers he had brought along to survive the chilly mountain air. For this reason, Kubo is glad about his current situation; he's finally reached Kaga Province and could seek out respite.

The money he had earned from his stories wasn't much, but it had been enough to persuade a merchant who had been headed north to let him hitch a ride in the back of his cart. The ride not only saved his energy but allowed him to take in his surroundings more as well. Slowly, the rolling flatlands and forests that existed closer to home transformed into towering mountains, swallowing whatever vaguely familiar terrain that existed outside of his village. The mountains gave way to massive valleys with rice paddies and shrines nestled somewhere in between, sparsely dotting the land in the distance.

And that was when Kubo understood that there wasn't any turning back now. Even on a tiny archipelago, the Japanese mainland felt so vast; especially to a young boy who had spent the past twelve years of his life sheltered in a seaside cave. His world had been confined to the backwoods outside of the fishing village he'd grown up in, and while he'd been to other lands he'd never spent much time with them. Neither had he been _alone._ _No,_ not alone.  
  
In the final stretch of his cart ride, Kubo recalls the merchant saying only one thing that stuck out to him. "I'd be on my guard, kid. Daigo's land is a pretty place but I've heard word of monsters in those parts. If you ask me, it's hiding somethin."  
_'That's exactly why I'm going there.'_ Kubo replies in his own thoughts.

* * *

The merchant had dropped him off a little ways away from the nearest village. He bid the boy adeiu and urged his horse forward, muttering something about needing to make his way west from here. Kubo was left to heave his belongings to the nearest town and hope that the wretched heat would relent sometime soon. By the time he had found the edge of town, the sun had climbed to its zenith and the sweat was clinging to the back of his neck. The disgust toward it visible in his only eye, he had stumbled into town tiredly, purchased food for himself and settled somewhere within a quiet alley.

Like the one he had stayed in before, this town was quaint. There are peasants dressed in modest clothing and farmers returning to and from the rice paddies he had seen beyond the village's bridge. There are children his age and younger, either playing or running errands for their families. The air here, in spite of the humidity, is fresh and lively. Kubo ponders to himself while he eats, recalling his own village and the kindness of the villagers who looked after him. He didn't want to believe the merchant who had warned him earlier; _how could such an ordinary little village be subject to such vile things?_

The smell of body odor grabs his attention again once he'd finished eating. Ever since Kubo had left home, he hadn't taken much time for himself, having focused on the journey to his destination. The boy brings the cuff of his sleeve to his nose to smell it -- and as he expects it smells of dirt, sweat, wild grass, and -- _hay?_ Must've been from that merchant's cart. "Yep, bathtime." If there is a time to rest and rejuvenate himself, it was probably now, so he slings his shamisen back over his shoulder and emerges from the alley. Luckily, the village was nestled just beside a river.

* * *

After an half an hour's worth of searching, Kubo found a small grove of trees nestled nearby the stream, sheltering it from sight. He bathed there, washed his hair and washed his clothes. The cool river water was equal parts refreshing as it was cleansing, offering relief from the crawling heat. After he had hung his clothes to dry, he was content to sit in the shallow edge to cool off for a bit. Once the humidity no longer felt like a cloying nuisance he slipped his silks back on. They weren't completely dry yet, but they weren't damp either, and they felt just cool enough to offer him respite.  
  
The day had crawled into the mid-afternoon by now. Clouds had begun to roll in, steadily blocking out the sun. Refreshed from his bath in the river, Kubo stretched his arms in the air and groaned with contentment while making his way back up the riverbank. At this point, he figured it would be a good idea to ask some of the locals questions about any recent demon attacks, and where he could find them. As he thinks to himself, he stops only to wash his face and splash some water on the back of his neck to keep the sweat from coming back. Nearby there are two bridges, one that is usable for crossing and another that is worse for wear.  
  
Something catches the corner of his eye. There is movement beyond the broken one, a safe distance away. A human figure donning a large cloak stands at the edge of the worn bridge.  
  
It's something he normally wouldn't have paid attention to, but nearby the stranger, other individuals stand in the grass just along the river shallows. They were both looking ahead of them, much further down the river, and that's when Kubo intuition kicks in. What was going on down there?  
  
_'Probably know each other,'_ he reasoned. ' _Not my business to get invo--'_

 _ **A mass shoots out from the water.** _Kubo jolts in shock.  
  
It's a massive mass, practically towering over both bridges and made of mud. It doesn't look structurally sound, but this does not stop massive appendages to shoot out from the shore and grab the three bystanders taken aback by it. Kubo is too awestruck to do anything while he watches it swallow all three men whole. His heart stops -- his breath hitches -- and the adrenaline kicks into gear.  
  
Blinded by his own terror, the child stumbles backward and further uphill, his own instinct driving him to leap for the bushes. It seems that he is a safe enough distance away that it doesn't notice him, but it's grabbing a forth person, much smaller than the other three. Kubo is too busy with hiding himself that he doesn't notice until he's safely in the brush and able to peek his head out from the hiding place.  
  
The man on the bridge is gone. Had they been eaten? -- No, there is a gleam of silvery light and a blur. Swords slice through the boggy mass like knives through butter, cutting clean through the demon's appendage. As it drops its prey, it reaches clammily for its new opponent, but amazingly, the warrior brandishing swords is too fast.  
  
If he weren't so amazed by the sight Kubo would have scolded himself for jumping into the brush like a coward. He does nothing, only holds his belongings close as he watches the battle with awe. The stranger seemed to possess cunning -- rather rely on brute force, they had darted for the bridge they'd been standing on, and the beast, no less feral than a wild animal, hungrily pursued them. The sludgy arms reached like swiping claws, but each time they'd grab nothing.  
  
Driven by what was probably hunger, the demon chases its prey up the side of the bridge, its appendages leaping across scaffolding and leaving strings of mud behind. Beneath its weight the structure threatens to buckle; groaning, wood cracking and splitting.  
  
Kubo darts out from the brush and makes for the opposite side of the stream, his adrenaline numbing the slight chill he'd feel as his feet stomped through the water. He maintains a safe distance, but everything is happening so fast that he needed to get a closer look. _Something_ is slicing through the unstable scaffolding. Another beam of sunlight catches on the stranger's blade. Kubo squints, and for a moment he wonders if his eye is deceiving him.  
  
Were those swords attached to arms? Unfortunately, everything is happening to fast to tell.  
  
Only a moment later and the bridge folds in on itself. The mud demon struggles to climb to the top but it is like a dumb animal, only wasting precious energy on a futile effort rather than saving itself instead. As supports split apart and topple, it becomes entombed and crushed by the debris. Water sprays into the air, and sludge is flung along with it as though it were flesh on a body. Mist briefly shrouds the sight.

He bolts forward, both hands reaching for the hilt of the sword fastened to his hip. Kubo doesn't quite draw it yet, but he wants to get over there and investigate. His tabi socks become waterlogged as he splashes through the shallow creek toward the bridge.

 _Shhng!_ Before he gets any closer and does something foolish, the child finally draws his weapon. The once living mass laid splattered all across the remains of the bridge, puddles of the muck steadily beginning to head downstream. It was very likely dead, but that doesn't stop Kubo from pointing his blade threateningly at it in case it wasn't. Perhaps it was dangerous of him to do so, but when the mud continues to rest as inanimate as it was supposed to, the young boy very carefully pokes it with the edge of Unbreakable's blade.

...Yes. Thankfully, remarkably, _very dead._

Kubo sucks in a breath and clutches the collar of his kimono. He hadn't realized how hard his heart had been pounding and how loudly his blood was pumping in his ears. _'That guy with the cart was right,'_ He hisses in thought, _'this place has to be hiding something.'_

But where was the stranger that felled the beast? Now Kubo's curiosity was piqued. While he liked to believe he could look after himself, the companionship of a skilled demon hunter would be of great use to him and his quest, especially if he wanted to come home _alive._ He stands on his toes, but the mass is too tall for him to see over the wreckage. So he darts his way over, sword in hand. _"Hey!"_

But when he makes it to the other side, the stranger with sword arms is gone. All that there is left behind is the remains of an old bridge, and the corpse of a demon entombed within it.  
  
_"Where did he ... go?"  
_

* * *

Despite his age, and despite his small size, Kubo is a boy brave beyond his years. He's also a very determined child, and when he wants something, he'll do his best to get it. In this case, he had hope he could find the stranger who had been responsible for slaying that demon. Two hours had passed since he'd witnessed the attack at the bridge and still was no sign of a young man in a grey cloak. _'He's probably with the town,'_ he had guessed at first, and so he began asking around the village for clues.  
  
_"Is there a guy with sword arms around here?"_  
_"I don't know what you're talking about, kid. We haven't had any samurai come around in a while."_  
  
_"Is there a guy with sword arms who lives around here?"_  
_"I'm sorry, little boy, I've never seen someone like that."_  
  
_"Is there a demon hunter who lives here?"_  
_"I'm sure we'd all love it if one did, but no."_  
  
After a solid hour of asking around, it was beginning to grow dark. The sun was steadily sinking closer to the horizon, and Kubo still didn't have any luck. _'Maybe I was just seeing things,'_ He thinks as he begins to doubt himself. _'If a demon hunter doesn't live around here, then maybe that guy was just a traveler, but what kind of person has swords for arms?'_ He pauses that thought, and stops in his tracks for a moment to trace his hand over the scruffy fringe on the left side of his face -- the same one obscuring an eyepatch from sight. 'I guess a guy who lost his real ones.'

Honestly, the child is too deflated to realize when he starts walking again. Kubo had taken to the empty allies in hopes of finding some sort of sign there, but as consequence, he had failed to see that another figure was walking directly in his blindspot.  
  
**_"OOPH!"_**

A tall figure crashed into him and Kubo stumbled away, trying to keep his balance. A split second later, a calloused hand reached for the collar of his kimono and pulled him forward.  
  
_"Watch it, twerp!"_

It was a man donning a white cloth wrapped around his forehead. He was shirtless, and had quite the big scar beside his chin. He very nearly threw the child as he released him, sending the boy back a few steps. He feels his shamisen swing around and bump into his stomach, causing him to nearly collide with the wall. With a grunt, Kubo catches himself, and _barely_ fights off the urge to say something reproachful.

"Easy, maybe he's seen the boss around." Another man behind him, far more muscular in stature, steps out from behind their companion. "You seen three guys, kid? One of them's a big guy, got a mark over his right."  
"Your boss?"  
"They said they were headed down to the river. We had some business we needed split up to finish up, but now we can't find em."  
  
_The river._ Kubo's memory flashes back to the riverbank where the mud demon had attacked, and he feels a tight knot form in his stomach. The moment it struck, he witnessed _three men_ get devoured by it within the blink of an eye. Now that Kubo thought about it, he didn't see any human bodies among the mess. Perhaps they too had been crushed, and it's unlikely they would have survived.

"You mean by the bridges?" He pipes up, brows raised in horror.  
"Pretty darn sure."  
"I think I saw them. I think I saw them got eaten -- there was a demon that attacked there!"  
  
"A demon?" The two men look surprised for a moment. Then they smile, and then they laugh. Big, cackling laughs, the ones that Kubo knew were the laughs people gave when they didn't believe someone. "Demons haven't been on this land for years. They were sealed away a long time ago. Don't make me laugh." The scarred worker chuckled.  
"...You just did." Kubo deadpans.

"Say, what the heck is a brat like you doing here, anyways? Most kids don't stick around this part of town. Are you a loner?"  
"Maybe he knows where we can find _who else_ we're looking for." The other man suggests.  
"Are you one of Dororo's friends, kid?"

The strangers faces darken, and Kubo feels himself bristle defensively.  
"No, I'm not from this town. Who are you talking about?"  
  
A fist reaches for his collar again, and this time lifts him up off the ground. His breath hitches in his surprise.  
"A little brat who nearly scammed us out of our stuff, that's who! For your sake you'd better be telling us the truth!" As the older man holds Kubo up, his eyes wander toward the scabbard on his hip, having noticed it gleam in the dimming sunlight. The brute seems genuinely surprised by this. "You've got a _sword,_ kid?"

 _Okay, that was it._ Kubo is both irritated and frightened. He would have struggled, had he not realized his shamisen was right up against his lap, and his hands were free and easily capable of sweeping downward against the strings. That's exactly what he does, and the sheets in his pouch _burst to life._

 _Twang!_ With a single musical chord, a few slips of origami paper fly out from the cloth pack and fold into a pair of sparrows. They appear so quickly that neither of the two brutes reacted in time. Suddenly the birds were in his captor's eyes, and both of them were yelping in their terror.  
  
Kubo feels himself drop to the ground. He lands on both feet, pushes off the nearby wall and darts in the opposite direction, towards the crowded market. Behind him, the two strangers cry and yell out in anger at him, but he doesn't dare look back.  
  
_'I don't think I'm staying around here tonight!'_

* * *

By the time he was certain he had lost his pursuers, it had grown dark. Cicadas had hidden away for the night and traded their shifts with the crickets, who once again sang in unending chorus. Having little money to spend and needing to spend it conservatively, Kubo decided to set up camp by the edge of town, away from the river's edge out of a childlike worry that that mud demon would come back to eat someone again. The warmth of the small bonfire he had made for himself offers him comfort after the long days en devours, and the smell of cooking fish is homey enough to ease away the anxiety of the night.  
  
As his meal cooks, the child looks skyward. It wasn't clear tonight, and patches of clouds blocked out the starry veil overhead, but he could still see them twinkling above.  
  
To look up at the stars is a bittersweet thing for him. For any other human they would only recount the beauty of the heavens, but he looks up at the stars and feels small slivers of _dread._ For Kubo is not entirely human, though he never admits that. The stars are his family as much as his mother and father were. In his early childhood, they often beckoned to him, and made him restless in the middle of the night. He wanted to answer their call and finally get to know them sometimes, but his mother often reminded him of how _dangerous_ they really were.  
  
He'd been naive back then. Now he wishes he still was.  
  
Kubo tries not to think about it more. So instead he shifts his thoughts to the boy with sword arms and the demon. Perhaps they were competition, or perhaps they were help. Either way, Kubo wanted to find them.

After finishing his meal and putting out his bonfire, Kubo finally allows himself to fall asleep under a curtain of stars. He'd failed to notice how _dull_ they'd become.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Kubo witnesses one of the first demons Hyakkimaru kills, aka the demon Dororo is saved from. Still haven't gotten a chance to catch up with the boys yet, that'll come in time. If you guys didn't catch on, yes he did have a run in with two of those croonies who we didn't see follow Dororo to the riverbank. Also, Kubo in the meantime, ponders his next actions.
> 
> What's he up to, why is he here? Why must he kill demons? You'll see soon enough.  
> Comments, Constructive Critiques, and Kudos are appreciated, as usual!


	3. A Priest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While waiting out the rain in a shrine, Kubo meets with the blind priest.

The pelting of rain soothes him.

Kubo never minded the rain that much; so long as it wasn't too heavy and he wasn't out to long, he was fine with being under it. Especially during the summer when the heat often would not relent for days on end, it was especially refreshing. Today the rain carried with it the lingering chill from the early spring. It was probably going to be the last time he'd feel it in a while, until autumn set in.

His stay at the village where the Mud Demon had appeared wasn't a long one. He spent the next day gathering supplies, and then the next asking around, hoping of hearing rumors of other monsters terrorizing the village, or perhaps, clues to the mysterious stranger with the katanas for arms. 

He did not have much luck with either; most of the people he'd ask did not travel, and besides the obvious attack off of the bridge, it was a peaceful town. Kubo had almost lost hope when, miraculously, an old man appeared to him at village edge.

"You're awfully reckless if you're out hunting ghouls at your age," the elder remarked, stroking his long beard. "But just because my hearing is going doesn't mean I can't hear old tales."  
He then proceeded to direct Kubo towards the mountain. Apparently there were rumors of kappas attacking people two hamlets away.

"People have gone missing by the river there, so I've been told. I hear they're offering a sum of money to whoever gets rid of them."  
"Well, it's not money I'm after, but maybe there's something I can do." Kubo mulls aloud. "Thank you, mister."

So he departed from the village, and began his trek uphill. Soft rumbles of thunder heralded the approach of a storm as Kubo climbed his way around, and soon the rain began to fall. At somepoint, he found that shrine midway up the trail.

It had been several minutes since then, and the rain showed no signs of letting up.

Kubo turns his gaze skyward for a few moments, peering out from beneath the shrine roof. When it seemed apparent that he was going to be walking in the rain for a while if he left now, Kubo finally slid off his shamisen.  
The old thing needed tuned. It didn't require nearly as much maintenance as an ordinary one, but it was still a musical instrument, and a very important one to him at that.

As though it were a delicate infant, he handled it with care, folding one leg over the other to cradle in his lap while he began to turn each of the pegs. They are one-off notes, played carefully with a pluck of the bachi in his hand,  
and his other hand moving ever so slightly up and down the sao until he's satisfied with what he hears. Steadily, the tune becomes a song; a simple melody, somber, and carrying the beat of the fallen rain.  
With each beat he taps his foot gently, and quietly to himself, Kubo hums a familiar lullaby.

_The sun calls the moon away,_  
_she says, return to your kingdom,_  
_so that men may work in the rice fields_

_The sun calls the moon away,_  
_she says, return to your kingdom,_  
_so the children may play_

_But do not carelessly play all day,_  
_when the sun leaves, the moon will come back,_  
_and monsters will whisk you away  
  
and monsters will whisk you away_

"My, my, that is a sound that these old ears haven't heard in a while."  
  
Kubo had been lost to the music, and he didn't realize how much time had passed until a grovely voice caught his attention. The boy gasps silently, nearly jolting.  
  
Hiking his way up to the shrine was an old man. He walked with a cane and kept a kind, crooked smile across his face. Cradled on his back was a biwa, held by a large cloth that was fastened across his torso. Judging by his white clothing and shaved head, he was probably a priest. "And played by a young soul such as yourself. These roads can be quite dangerous, so its unusual to see such a peaceful young one here."  
  
Kubo straightens up some, and pauses. As the elder came closer, he very quickly noticed that they were blind. He found himself stiffening up involuntarily -- just a little, but Kubo reminded himself to relax. While on the road, a priest should be the least of his worries. "I've been told that. I never realized not a lot of people play one these days. Is that a biwa?"  
  
"Heheheh, that it would be. Most people do not _care_ to play one these days. May I sit beside you? An old man like myself can't get around as easily as I used to."  
"Sure." Kubo holds his shamisen in his arms and scoots a little further from his seat at top of the shrine's stairway.  
  
The old priest slowly brings himself to sit beside him, the butt of his wooden cane resounding with each step. He rests his hands at the top of it, and stares peacefully into the falling rain.  
  
Remaining quiet, Kubo decided to watch him. He figured they wouldn't care -- it wasn't like they could actually see him, anyway, right?  
  
There is silence between them for the next few moments. Then, "Ah, even in silence, a moment like this is a wonderful one."  
"Huh?" Kubo raised his brows, and leaned away, looking surprised by the choice of words.  
The priest turned his head toward him, keeping his kind smile.

"The roads are often dangerous, yet even now I still come across kind faces on paths like these. It does bring me hope." The priest looked away, back toward the falling rain.  
"Lately there has been more and more fighting. People do not take the time to enjoy being human. They're often too caught up with war and power that they're unable to see the simplest things. Wouldn't you agree?"  
  
His words easily struck Kubo. A strange mixture of nostalgia and discomfort began to fester in his stomach for how familiar they felt. He reminisced about his mother; she would often speak the same way, declaring how beautiful even the simplest things in life were, from the way leaves changed color in autumn to the sound of human laughter. They were mortal, flawed, and imperfect things; and therefore unique. At least, this was how he interpreted what his mother meant. The world she lived in was not his own; it was devoid of warmth, and devoid of emotion, in exchange for lacking suffering.

How peculiar that the words of a stranger would hit so close to home?  
  
Nevertheless, Kubo nodded in agreement. "Mhm."  
  
"What is a young one like yourself doing out on your lonesome, anyway?" The priest asks.  
  
"Oh, I'm looking for something. _Someone._ It's very important that I do."  
"Is that so? Is that someone family of yours?"  
"No...but it's to save my family."  
  
"Hmm..." The elder paused. His smile sunk, and he cradled his chin in his hand in contemplation. Then he turned back to Kubo and smiled some more.  
"By the way, that is quite the special sword you have with you there."  
  
Kubo very nearly _jumped._ If the priest could see then he probably would have laughed at how Kubo's jaw hung open, for he was certainly baffled. "W-wh-- _but how could y-_ "  
  
_"Heh-heh-heh-heh!"_ The priest lifted his head up to laugh anyways. Its a soft, gentle laugh, the one that only a kind soul could give, and it was enough to somehow make Kubo feel less tense than he already was. "Surprised, aren't you? I might not be able to see like you do, but I know something special when I sense it."  
  
Kubo remains confused.  
  
"And you are a very special one, indeed. I noticed from the moment I was near. You seem like a very strong young man, but mark my words, its still very dangerous for you."  
  
"Wh-what do you mean...?"  
"A strong soul like yours is very attractive to evils that hunger power," The priest explains. "If what I am suspecting is true, you have come to fell the monsters in this land. That sword is very special, it radiates with a very powerful energy. A demon wouldn't stand a chance against it. Use it wisely, boy. They will be drawn to you, and it is your strongest defense against them."  
  
Jarring though his words were, the boy made an attempt to understand. "You mean they'll go after me?"  
"Indeed. What I see before me is a very powerful soul. But you are still young and vulnerable in a demon's eyes. They'll think of you as an easy picking. In order to survive the ordeals ahead, you will need to continue to prove them wrong."  
  
For a moment the child's heart sank, for in that moment, Kubo finally realized exactly what the priest was saying. He was, after all, **_half kami._** The blood of a god flowed through his very veins.  
It only made sense then, that a demon would be eager to sample that blood. He clutched his wrist in faint nervousness. He must remind himself of the risks that he had taken, and the monsters that he had faced all those months ago. They had been to save himself from a horrible fate. Now, it was time again, not to save himself, but to save another.  
  
"I won't let them defeat me."  
  
"Good. Carry that strength with you. Another thing," The priest turns his blind gaze to the Sword Unbreakable once again. Then it draws towards the shamisen, and he almost seems to bow his head in acknowledgement. "It seems to me that you possess mighty gifts. I know not where you come from, nor the trials you may have faced. But I do know this; this land is filled with much tribulation. You may encounter others' suffering, and others' that have lost their way. Do not let cruelty blind you. No matter what happens, you must not use those gifts for evil. Only if you turn your heart toward malicious intent...will it truly struggle to overcome adversity."  
  
Kubo remained silent, but takes in his words. His hand tightens around his wrist.  
  
By now, the rain had begun to lighten, and the sky was steadily growing darker. The blind priest slowly pushed himself up on to his feet. "Well, I think I've rested for long enough now. I would stay until the rain cleared, but I am needed elsewhere." He declares. The elder begins to make his way back down the steps and onto the forest trail.  
  
"...Safe travels." The young bard murmured softly. "... _Wait,_ how exactly were you able to see me?!"  
  
The priest looked over his shoulder and chuckled again. "Heh. I do not see with my eyes, but rather with my soul. If you ask me, it gives a much more accurate picture, too."  
And with the butt of his cane and the slow, hollow steps of his geta, he departed.

* * *

Further up on the mountain, another soul looks down at the shrine.  
The glow of the young one's garnered their interest, but the little grey soul reaches for their hand and pulls them along.  
Obediently, they follow.

* * *

Since it was growing dark and the rain continued to let on, Kubo decided to stay within the safety of the shrine of the night.  
The space beneath the shrine was dry, granting him a comfortable place for him to sleep.  
  
But that night, Kubo would dream.  
  
He dreamed he was floating several feet off the ground. There was a grassy, hilly plain below him, with sickly maple trees and tired, hungry men desperately searching for respite below.  
Kubo couldn't move. He couldn't flail his arms or twist his body, and he could not speak either. He stayed helplessly up in the air, unable to get himself back down.  
  
Below, arms and paws began to emerge from the ground. Attached to them were monsters and demons of all shapes and sizes; a nue more than three times the size of a man, a shark coated with pulsing human flesh, an oni with its face entirely consumed by fangs and hair, and far more. They ravaged what little of the sickly land is left.  
  
The boy tried to stop himself from watching, but even when he closed his eye, he could still see the demons below rip apart all the helpless men. Horrible cries of agony erupted from the victims below as they were torn asunder, their limbs devoured and their skin flayed. They pleaded for mercy and rescue, but neither thing came. As the massacre went on, the sky became awash with their blood.  
  
The moon above him burned brightly as though it were the sun. As the land below him began to rot, the demons finally turned their eyes toward him. All of the poor mortals were dead, but they were still hungry.  
Not just hungry, _famished._ Their claws reached up to the sky, and their eyes glowed with greed and feral desperation. Kubo wanted to scream; he wanted to cry for help--he couldn't move! But nothing came from his mouth!  
  
He began to sink towards the ground, much to his horror. The demons grew closer and closer, and in that moment, the boy anticipated his death.  
  
Kubo would wake with a start, sucking in a huge mouthful of the night air. He could feel his heart thumping in his chest and the chill clinging to the back of his neck from sweat.  
Safe to say, he would not sleep easily the rest of the night.

* * *

When morning finally came, Kubo gathered his things and sluggishly crawled out from underneath the shrine. The rain had cleared up overnight, and the clouds had flown away, once again basking the forest in warm rays of sun. Unfortunately, his poor night's sleep and the words of the travelling priest left the boy unwilling to leave the shrine just yet -- but he knew he had a demon to find, and his search was going to start with those kappas.  
  
As he packed the last of his things and fastened his pouch across his torso, Kubo felt his stomach growl hungrily. In the unexpected change of plans last night, staying at the shrine also meant going without a filling meal, and he had nothing but a manju bun to placate his hunger. Now he was without sleep _and_ a good breakfast. The twelve year-old clutched his stomach and grumbled to himself in his misery.  
  
Reluctantly, he forced himself forward. The nearest town was just beyond the mountain, and he could get food and hopefully a better chance to rest there.  
Though he was dragging his feet most of the time, Kubo fought off his drowsiness the rest of the way. It wasn't until he was only a short ways away from the edge of the village past the trail that he came across a rather disturbing scene.

Within a grove of cedar trees, a group of villages stood and mourned. There were buddhist monks who were offering small prayers, and men who were heaving bodies away. Corpses were covered by straw mats, with only limbs dangling out to hint at their morbid fates. Blood still stained the soil around the trail, though most of it had been washed away by the rain.  
  
Kubo stopped himself cold as he walked upon the scene. He immediately hated himself for the shocked face he made. "What _happened_ here?"  
  
Most of the men were silent, either offering a small glance in acknowledgement, or not acknowledging him at all. Only a young man in green clothing dared answer him.  
"The phantom killer is what happened. You're lucky you came through here now instead of yesterday night," the young man remarked, "The phantom is no more, but still, I'd be careful if I were you."  
  
The child's brows raised, and he glanced at his surroundings. He hadn't noticed it until now, but several of the men around him looked wary. They were carrying rakes and other tools, probably in an effort to defend themselves.  
_Talk about dumb luck on his end._  
  
"...Thanks, I will. There's a village nearby here, right?"  
"Yeah, past these woods. Everyone's still a little on edge though right now, so don't expect anyone to be too friendly, got it?"  
"Yeah, all right."  
  
Kubo squeezed his eye shut for a few moment, trying to blink away the sight he had just witnessed. He recalled the dream he had not too long before, and felt another knot form in his gut. Nonetheless, he pushed himself forward, choosing to walk away as fast and as quietly as humanly possible, trying to pretend as though nothing happened.

* * *

At last, he reached the village, and he immediately could sense what that young man had been talking about.  
  
The village itself seemed lethargic. Against the warm rays of the sun, it seemed grey and muted. Villagers did not frequent the streets, and those who did did it rather quickly and quietly.  
Kubo felt the shocking contrast in comparison to the past two towns he had visited.  
  
Yet despite the young man's warning, he was able to find someone who was friendly enough to sell him food and offer an explanation. With a bowl full of rice, he eagerly sated his hunger while listening to the merchant's tale.  
  
"Until last night, the woods were quite dangerous. Over the past few weeks we'd been hearing rumors of a killer making their way here and killing everyone they meet. Then, a few days ago, people who left the village stopped coming back. It didn't matter who you were, if you weren't careful you'd never be seen again."  
"I'm sorry that happened to you. If you don't mind me asking, what happened that it stopped?"  
"Last night, a young man came into town and defeated the killer. I saw it with my own two eyes, he even cleaved their sword into two."  
  
Kubo glanced up at him with interest. "A young man, you say?"  
"Yeah. I watched while I was hiding. He was a strange fellow, too, I don't think he even had arms."  
  
**_The man with sword arms._** _Maybe his eye hadn't been tricking him after all!  
  
_Kubo felt a burst of excitement in his chest, and he ate his meal a little faster. Though he was normally a very composed child, it was hard for him to retain his enthusiasm. Suddenly he had felt reinvigorated; if that young man came through here, then he _had_ to be close. Given what Kubo had witnessed since he arrived here, he was now certain he didn't want to do this alone.  
  
Well, he absolutely _would_ if he had to, but he _really_ didn't want to!  
  
"You don't say?" He states, plainly facading his curiosity after swallowing a mouthful of food. "The village nearby here, is that one getting terrorized to?"  
"Ah, I don't hear much about that nearby town but I have heard some things." The merchant answers reluctantly. "I'd stay far away from there too, if I was you."  
  
Kubo pursed his lips and internally sighed, feeling dread beginning to set in from the merchant's word. _'Nope,'_ he thought to himself. ' _That's where I'm headed to next.'_  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm carefully trying to pace Kubo's journey to line up with Hyakkimaru and Dororo's before they end up crossing paths officially, but in the meantime, Kubo's meeting with Biwamaru! All of this takes place right around episode four. Hope you guys enjoyed! Comments, Critique and Kudos are greatly appreciated! See ya next time!


	4. A Kappa, Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kubo reaches a village infested with kappa and doubt.

His stay was a brief one. Once Kubo had sated his hunger, he departed from the village and began to make his way westward toward the coastline. A Spirit Gate sheltered in a small bamboo grove offered him a place to rest and make up for the sleep he had lost, and soon, he was on his way to the rumored Kappa Village early the next morning.

The weather was fair and warm. Not hot, neither chilly. Every so often small clouds would briefly sweep beneath the sun but nevertheless, it remained calm throughout the day. Kubo reached the town by late morning.  
  
From a distance, it looked like an unsuspecting hamlet, nestled between a river and the sea. Bunches of fountain bamboo and bushes sprung up around the edge of the river, and grassy marshland surrounded the village edge. There were rice paddies on the opposite side of town, though very few. If one were to see it without hearing of its troubles, they might never guess it was the site of monster attacks. Kubo sucks in a breath, and begins to make his way down hill, his shamisen bumping rhythmically with each step down the rocky slope.

It wouldn't be until he reached the edge of the town that he began to see signs of the terror it was supposedly facing.

The river cut between the village and the mainland, segmenting it. To cross into town required a bridge. Kubo noticed, as soon as he reached said bridge, that it was stained with blood.

The stains had long since dried but they were splattered across the railing. The scaffolding, the crosswalk. Cracks and splintered wood in certain sections of the rails tell of violent brawls. Bloody finger prints tell of victims' final moments where they desperately clung for life, but their efforts ultimately remained fruitless. Kubo felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He swallowed hard and pressed on.  
  
Like the village that had been victim to the supposed Phantom Killer, this one too, seemed lethargic. Though locals went about their day somewhat casually, the streets here were not busy, and villagers carried a somber air. Children stayed close to their homes, never straying more than a few feet from their doors, and restricting themselves to playing games with toys and spinning tops rather than romping about.

As he passed by the very few peasants that were out and about, he noticed the curious looks they'd give him. Travelling alone was a danger in itself, especially for a child, and this much Kubo knew. But he couldn't help but imagine how these people thought when they saw a boy his size wandering into a demon-infested village all on his lonesome.

He tried not to let it get to him. Instead, Kubo got right to the point and began to ask around. Before he could start drawing his own conclusions, he needed information.

"Excuse me, sir...I heard this village has been having trouble?" He goes up to an older man who is hauling logs up onto his shoulders. The worker scoffs and ignores him, leaving Kubo slightly disgruntled.

Well...he's not going to ask that guy. He steps away and makes for a young woman and her small child. "Excuse me, I um...I heard there was some trouble here, miss."  
"Oh my, are you all alone, young man?" The mother asks.  
"Yes, I'm not from here. Is there a chief or someone I could speak to?"  
"No, boy, you're better off not poking your nose into this business. It's not safe here for a child like you!"  
  
The woman almost seems offended, and she turns her back to him, carrying her child away. What is with this town?  
  
"Hey, is it true there's been kappa attacks here?" When he finds that being polite is failing him, Kubo skips right to the point when approaching an elderly beggar.  
"There have been, but I wouldn't get involved if I were you. If you're smart, you're better off crossing that bridge and going back to where you came from, boy."  
  
_What on earth?_ What kind of village is so beaten down that they don't even want to speak word of the horrors plaguing them? The more the adults shooed him away, the more Kubo wanted to know. When he decided that speaking to grown-ups wouldn't help, he instead went to his peers. There were a group of children around his age playing with a spinning top by the door of a home. Kubo admitted to being a lone-wolf among his age group; though he'd become quite the role model to younger kids in his village, he rarely ever played with them. The closest people he had to friends was his own mother, and an old peasant woman called Kameyo.

Nevertheless, with teeth sinking into his lower lip and a shrug of the shoulders to adjust his belongings, Kubo forces himself over to the little group. "Hi there."

All of the other children look at him and seem to give him a strange look, almost as if he had something on his face (well, besides the eyepatch.) Luckily however, a boy with brown hair growing in tufts pipes up. "Hey there, never seen you 'round here! Do your mama and papa live on the edge of town or somethin?"  
"No, I'm...not from around here."  
"You're a traveler?" A younger boy interjects. "My momma said leaving the village is dangerous! You're pretty crazy if y' do!"  
"Well, yea, but--"  
"Oh pipe down, Ichiro. You've never even crossed the bridge." The older boy scolded, interrupting Kubo. "Anyways, whatcha here for, kid?"  
  
"Well, I was wondering if maybe you guys could tell me about the stuff that's ... _happening_ here."  
All of the children go silent. A young girl glances at the boy with tufts, wincing. "Nii-chan, momma said we're not sposed to talk about it..."  
"Y'mean the monsters?" The younger boy shouts.  
"Ichiro!"  
  
The older boy looks around. When it seems there aren't any adults listening, he leans in slightly.  
"All the grown-ups here try to make it seem like nothing's happening, but we all know what's going on."  
Kubo sits himself down in order to listen.  
  
"It's been happening at night, but every so often a _monster_ comes around here and drags people out into the river. Or so I've heard. When people started to find out, they'd start going to the river to drive it out. But they'd never come back."  
"Nii-chan, stop it..."  
"Right now there's a reward for anyone who kills it. We've had people coming in from all over, but every time the grown-ups think the attacks are gonna stop, those people go missing too. It's like the monster's unstoppable or something."  
The boy's younger sister begins to whimper, and she cries out: "Momma! Nii-chan's scaring me again!"  
  
A young woman slides open the door to her wailing child, and the other kids shoot upwards in fright. "Daiki, how many times have I told you?! You mustn't make your sister cry! All of you, shoo!" Her steeling gaze turns to Kubo, and her eyes narrow with scrutiny. "I've never seen you before boy, but please excuse my son. Go back home now."

She tugs her son onto his feet while her daughter rushes inside. The other children scatter while Daiki whines feebly. _"But momma! She always cries! C'mon--!"_

Kubo rises to his feet as the door is forcefully shut in front of him. He sighs in defeat. _'This is pointless...'_  
  
Maybe he should just leave? If it is true that many have already tried to kill the kappa and failed, then the villagers were justifiably doubtful. It wasn't his business to get involved in either; if he stayed too long, he might lose track of the young man with the sword arms he so wished he'd find, or lose the precious time his family had left. If they do not want his help, why should he continue to offer it?

 _'No, I can't think that way.'_ He has already come this far. He reminds himself that he has powers and abilities that regular mortals lacked, and, a divine weapon to boot. Not only that, but a mission of his own he has to complete, for **_grandfather's_** sake. Even if this kappa did not hold the key to saving him, Kubo would be ridding the village of a demon, which was good, right?

He needed to find out more. But it was clearly apparent that the village didn't want to open up to him. He'd need to earn their trust -- or at the very least, _someone's_ trust.  
Kubo tugs on the strap of his shamisen. Thankfully, he knows just how to do it. Like so many times before, he steps out into the marketplace. He pulls his instrument around his stomach and reaches for the bachi tucked away in his sash.  
  
"If you must blink, do it now!"  
  


* * *

  
They did not come at first. He'd been telling stories for four straight years and been so used to telling them to an eager crowd that it almost felt _alien_ to him when an audience ushered themselves to meet him.  
  
Do not stop, they will come.  
  
And so he didn't stop. Bystanders passed by idly, ignorant of the young boy attempting to garner their attention, until he reached the end of his opening mantra and a little paper man came flying out of his pack. Magic courses through Kubo like his blood does; it feels natural and unending. He could feel it run through his veins, shift and change with his thoughts and commands. The shamisen in his arms is a _channel_ \-- a set of training wheels through which he can express his abilities. With the music he can control his gifts, but be not mistaken, the shamisen is a _vessel._

Slowly and steadily, a little crowd had begun to gather around him, enthralled by the little paper man and the collection of origami figures. They moved and breathed like there was muscle beneath their folds, but that is just as much an illusion as a reflection on the water.  
  
_"Now Hanzo was alone, his beloved split off from him as they searched desperately for their son.  
Though still soaked in the blood of the demon he'd slain, the samurai did not dare give up now.  
The beast had given him a clue, a piece of his son's robe found in a dying wood -- torn away, but clean.  
There was hope. He had to be alive!  
_  
_Onward through the dark forest, he pressed, his mighty sword tight in his grip and raised, anticipating what monstrous horrors may await him.  
The sun was sinking lower toward the horizon -- he knew he'd need to be fast! For if he could not rescue his child before the sun set, the terrible Moon King would surely appear and take their son away for good!_  
_The dead trees around him moaned with the wind, their branches swinging, clawing and snapping almost as through they were reaching for the heavens themselves,"  
  
_Children would steadily wiggle their way into the front of the crowd, watching the moving figures curiously. Toddlers would cling to their parents' legs in fright, too scared to look, but too fascinated to leave.  
  
_"Hanzo hears the underbrush rustle. Something was moving through the thicket -- coming closer, and closer.  
He held his blade steady; could it be his lost child? Or another hungry monster, eager to sink their teeth into flesh?"  
  
_In a paper field, something shifts. Children whimper and gasp while adults begin to hold their breaths as it moves closer and closer to the origami samurai. The little figure braces itself, pressing its foot down into a battle stance. Its helmet shades the determination in its face.  
  
_"The figure reveals itself. It's --!"  
**DING, DONG! DING, DONG! DING, DONG!**_

Just as the paper field shifts and bounds forward, the evening bell is rung. Kubo freezes, and finds himself involuntarily looking towards the town's bell tower. His origami figures fall apart and return to flat, planar sheets. Had he paid attention, he would have realized how many hours had passed since he'd begun his story.  
He'd stopped out of habit. It took about five seconds for Kubo to remember that he was not in his hometown, and that he did not, in fact, _need to cower from the night any longer._ The sound of a ringing bell had once been how he judged when to leave home and when to return. But even when he recovers, he very quickly realizes that his tiny audience was scattering. _"Uh, I--!"_

Grown-ups and children alike were suddenly rushing back to their homes. Mothers and fathers picked up their toddlers and ushered them back inside. The marketplace became completely empty in just seconds.  
Kubo felt his heart sink, and an unsettling sense of _foreboding_ as well. It seems, he is not the only person to fear the night in this world. _'I should probably leave, and maybe try again tomorrow...'_  
  
"Young man," a soft and elderly voice calls to him. Kubo turns and notices that a lady, one who looked even older than Kameyo, had been standing nearby the entrance of her home. A wrinkled hand beckons him to come closer.  
"Please, come inside," she says, "it's not safe for a child like you to be out at night."  
  
Kubo turns back to face the marketplace. All the other stalls were empty, and no other locals were to be seen. They'd shut themselves in, and probably locked their doors. Kubo could leave if he wanted to, but should he even try? Would it be safer for him?  
With a sigh, he gathers his things and reluctantly follows. "I'm sorry, ma'am, I didn't mean t--"  
  
"Oh, not at all child, you aren't in any trouble." The old woman laughs. "I was listening to your story. I couldn't help but notice those tiny little figures you made. How on earth did you do such a thing?"  
"Oh, I -- heh-heh, it's magic, ma'am." Kubo slides his shamisen off of his back and holds it by its sao. "You're sure it isn't any trouble?"  
  
"Not at all. You are very poetic with words, young man. And the way that the others gathered around you...it's been a while since such light has ever been brought to our town."  
She guides Kubo to a larger room, where her husband sits by a lit irori. His face is gaunt and tired, like most of the other villagers. He sees his wife and frowns slightly. "Hana, a guest?"  
  
"It's the boy who was telling that story out on the street, dear!" Hana chuckles, and turns to Kubo. "Don't mind my husband. He wasn't watching. You should show him what you can do!"  
"Hana, what are you up to...?"  
"He needs a place to stay for the night. I cannot let the poor child spend the night out on the street, with that monster out and about?!"  
  
"You needn't worry ma'am, I can look after myself. You don't have to open your home to me..." Kubo winces.  
"No." The old man interrupts, his voice firm. "Boy, if you want to make it through the night here, you'll stay."  
  
The twelve year-old raises his brows, positively befuddled. Realizing that at this point it'd be rude and probably _stupid_ of him to decline, Kubo timidly bows in gratitude. "Thank you for having me."  
"You must be hungry. Let me get you some food." Hana smiles and sits down across from her husband, beginning to prepare him a meal.  
  
"What is your name, boy?"  
"Kubo, sir." The child sits himself down.  
"Kubo. My name is Juro. This is my wife, Hana. Tell me, Kubo, why are you here?"  
  
"Well," Kubo slides his shamisen into his lap, and gently brushes his thumb across silken strings thoughtfully. "I'd heard rumors about a kappa attacking your village. I'm looking for demons to hunt, so I thought I'd start here..."  
"Demons, hunt? I see, you're trying to earn some money, eh? That's a risky business, even for the adults. You're hardly in the shape to fight a ghoul, young man."  
"Kubo," Hana interjects softly. "Why don't you show him what you can do? Show him what you did in the street."  
  
Kubo sucks in a breath, and nods. Perhaps these people needed to see that he was no ordinary person. He flips his shamisen onto its side and begins to pluck its strings. Under his command, two sheets of paper fly out from his pack and take the shape of a little origami sparrow. As though it were a real, living creature, the paper bird flutters to Juro, and hovers in front of his face.  
  
The elder stares back at it, bewildered. "My my ... that is quite the gift you have."  
"Isn't it incredible, dear?" Hana chuckles.  
"It is," Juro replies while the bird perches on its finger. "As though it were a real living entity itself...but, it's hardly what I'd call 'life-saving.'"  
  
"Well, that's not all I can do, sir." Kubo asserts while he calls the sparrow back with another pluck of the string.  
"A kappa will not be serenaded by music nor frightened of a little paper bird. You cannot save lives with magic alone."  
"I know, but I have more than that, let me show you."  
"Please boy, what you are playing is a dangerous game, your life is worth more than what you're giving it up for."  
  
"Juro, look!" Hana gasped in awe.  
The old man looked at his wife and then looked at Kubo. The young boy was pulling out the sword fastened to his hip, the metallic _shnng_ reverberating warmly against the walls. The glow of the irori's flames ignite on its blade.  
  
Much to Kubo's surprise, Juro becomes awestruck. The old man clutches his chest, and his jaw hangs open, while his gnarled hand reaches out towards the glowing figure of the katana. _"It...it can't be...!"_ He gasps, "That couldn't possibly be...the Sword Unbreakable..."  
  
Kubo's eye widens. "You know about it? The armor?!"  
"Child, I grew up on legends like that. I have known the tale of the sacred Sun Armor since I was even younger than you. But I never imagined it would be _real,_ let alone be seen by my own eyes!" Juro's hand quivers.  
"It's said it was created by Amaterasu herself, to protect her kingdom from Tsukiyomi and keep their two realms separate." Muses Hana, "It's armor so powerful that not even the gods can destroy it...so when it fell to the mortal plane, Tsukiyomi became wary, and had anyone who came close to finding it killed."  
"How on earth did you find that?!"  
  
"I-it's a long story." Kubo dodges the question and sheathes the sword back into its scabbard. He fixes his gaze away from the duo somberly. "...and, not one I'd like to recall right now."  
The elderly couple seem to read his hesitation, and respectfully, they back off. "Regardless," Juro mumbles. "If you have that sword, then there may be hope for this village just yet. A sword like that could destroy even the most powerful demons, in the right hands."  
"Well, that's what I'm here to find out. I'd like to help you all, but I don't know what's happened here. No one will tell me."  
  
Kubo leans in, and the determination in his tawny eye becomes clear. His brows furrow with sincerity. "Please, tell me what's happened here."  
  
Hana and Juro face one another, and pause.  
"It isn't a happy story."

* * *

Hana had filled his bowl with rice and allowed Kubo to sit and eat while he listened. She was now preparing another bowl -- for whom, he did not know. He chose not to ask, only listen to her and Juro's tale.  
  
"It began about eight weeks ago, with our granddaughter. It had just rained then; this year's crop season was already beginning to look hopeful. I had taken her to the market with me that day. There were other children who were playing, and I don't know why she did, but I like to think it was because she wanted to play with them. Either way, she strayed from me. When I noticed she was missing from my side, I went looking for her." Juro squeezes his eyes shut. His face is fraught with guilt and sorrow, and Kubo can tell he's struggling to keep it down. "A young man told me that he happened to see a little girl wandering towards the river. So I went looking there, but I never found her...a few days later, a body was found by the riverbank. All of its limbs were gone, its face was so mutilated that no one could tell who the body belonged to. But it was just small enough to be her."  
  
Hana sinks her lip in and brings herself closer to her husband. They were both struggling to hold in their own tears. Kubo could feel the guilt and lament radiating from both of their old, crumbling figures. "I'm sorry. I didn't know..."  
  
"It's not your fault, boy. And I'm afraid the story does not end there," Juro shakes his head, melancholic. "Over the next few weeks, more and more children went missing. Body parts began to appear in the river; limbs, bones, ribs, flesh...it was quickly becoming apparent that something had moved into the river. The attacks became more and more violent about three weeks after our granddaughter went missing. We are a fishing village, so we make most of our money off of the sea's bounty. However, fishermen began to disappear. It didn't matter if you were fishing up river or out at sea. If you were coming back into town, especially after dusk, it's likely you wouldn't make it home safely."  
  
"Would you mind me asking what happened at the bridge?" Kubo inquires gently.  
"Yes, I was just getting to that. Once we were certain that there was a monster attacking our town, the village chief threw up a bounty for it to be slain. Word must've spread quickly, because as soon as it was put up about three weeks ago, samurai started pouring in, eager to claim to reward. But each time someone came into town, one of two things would ultimately happen; they'd flee, or they'd get killed. One such young man fled the town one morning. He had originally come with two others. Apparently, he'd witnessed them both be torn right off of the bridge into the river."  
  
"We've been praying each day for some sort of salvation," Hana interjects, "None of the samurai who have come here willing to help us have been successful. Many of the villagers have lost hope."  
"So that's why they kept telling me off, huh?" Kubo concludes aloud. "It's just because they figure I'll end up like all the rest...So why not just leave then?"  
  
"Many have. The streets have grown empty," Juro answers glumly. "However, the wilderness is just as unsafe as this village has become. And now there is word of a war brewing..."  
Kubo's blood goes cold.  
"The Sakai Clan has raised its arms against Daigo. We are safe where we are. However, leaving may mean endangering ourselves to the clans' warring. They could strike one another any day now..."  
"Yet some of the villagers would rather endanger themselves that way then stay here. It's cruel and unfair, what's happening. Especially to our little girl..." Hana whimpers. "Her mother and father died when she was just an infant, she was the last thing we had left of our child's. And now she's gone..."  
  
Kubo finishes his meal, and remains morose. "...I'm sorry."  
"With the Sword Unbreakable, though, we might just be able to take this village back." Juro enthuses. "I admit, for a while I was also doubtful we'd be able to see peace again, but if the legend is true, then that blade can be our town's salvation."  
"Yeah..."  
  
Hana has finished preparing the fourth bowl. She sets it on a wooden tray and stands up. "I forgot to tell you, Kubo, but while you are staying with us, you might as well meet our other house guest. Come with me."  
She slides the door open to a small bedroom, leading Kubo to a young man who is asleep on a mat.  
  
It's a teenaged boy, maybe six or seven years older than him. His chest and arms are bandaged, and his frazzled hair is short and scruffy.  
"Katsumaru, please wake up. You should eat, and we have a guest." Hana kneels and sets the tray down beside the young man.  
  
The boy groggily stirs, and turns his head toward the elder. "Granny, I've told you, I'm not hungry..."  
"Eat, boy," Hana commands, a little less soft this time. "You are still weak, so you must eat. Kubo, this is Katsumaru."  
  
Katsu reluctantly pushes himself up. "Isn't this the third guest we've had in the past two weeks?"  
"Yes, but he's much different. Far kinder than those samurai."  
"He's a kid. Of course he is." Katsu grunts and takes a handful of rice between his chopsticks. "What, you don't have a mom to go to?"  
  
"Actually, I've come to help slay the monster that's been terrorizing you guys."  
"Help? Slay the monster?! Hah, that's _rich._ I'm sure you'll help, a runt like you would probably give me a few seconds-worth of a distraction while it eats you."  
Kubo feels his face flush at the insult.  
  
"Katsu," Hana scolds. "Be polite. He will be sleeping here tonight with you."  
"Yes, fine." Katsu replies begrudgingly and stuffs a mouthful of rice into his face.  
"Kubo, why don't you stay here and make sure he finishes his meal? Katsu is recovering from an injury and needs his strength back. That means _eating all of his rice!_ " Hana hisses those last few words like an assertive mother.  
_"Granny, I'm not shome kid, okay?"  
  
_"O-Okay..." Kubo tries to swallow down his own irritation. He was a guest in their household, and that meant maintaining his composure. So, he sits across from the young man and watches while Hana leaves the room. "...So, how'd you get hurt?"  
_"What do you think?"_ Katsumaru snarks between mouthfuls.  
"...You tried to stop the kappa?"  
"No, _fishing._ _Of course_ I was trying to stop the kappa."  
"Okay..." Kubo sucks in a breath through his nose. _Try not to get angry._ "...Did you actually see it then?"  
  
"No." Katsu says after swallowing more of his food. "I never got a good look at its face. But I did see its arms. It tried to wrestle me and drag me into the water. I had to slice off its arm to get free."  
_"'Slice?'"_  
"Over there." Katsumaru points to the corner of the bedroom. Propped up against the wall is an old katana. Its blade is old and worn from several battles. The lackluster weapon has purple blood splattered all across it.  
"...You're a samurai?" Kubo guesses.  
  
"No. But my father was. Ever since the attacks started I've been trying to stop that monster once and for all. But I got badly beaten, and now granny won't lemme leave until my wounds are healed. I know she means well, but I know if someone doesn't stop it soon, more people will die."  
"Well, that's why I'm here," Kubo insists, "I wanna help you guys!"  
"Forget it kid," Katsu hisses back at him. "You'll sooner end up a snack than make a scratch on that thing. Whatever it is."  
  
The child raises his head and lets out an irritated groan. _"Again, with the 'kid stuff!'"_ He growls, "Haven't you guys, y'know, tried getting it as a group?"  
"Already have," Katsumaru remarks, unfazed by Kubo's frustrations. "And they still don't come back. Everyone thinks its just one monster, kid, but if you ask me, I think there might be more to it than that..."  
  
Kubo falls silent, digesting this. He hadn't really considered it because almost everyone had been referring to it as _'the monster'_ and not _'monsters.'_ Katsu had made a valid suggestion; what if there were more than just one?  
"Well," Kubo considers this, and then cants his head to one side. "Y'know, I'm not just an ordinary kid, y'know. You probably didn't see, but I have magic." He boasts.  
"Oh, is that so?" Katsumaru rolls his eyes.  
Kubo bites his cheek, but stomachs his ire. "Yeah--and I've also got this--"  
  
Out of his growing desire to prove the cheeky Katsumaru wrong, he pulls out the Sword Unbreakable partway. It's brilliant luster shines, even under the dim lighting of the bedroom.  
"--The Sword Unbreakable?"  
  
"Oh, so you've heard of it too, huh?" Kubo smirks.  
"Gramps has practically spoonfed me that kind of stuff, of course I've heard of it! How the heck did you find a weapon like that?"  
"Oh, y'know...stuff that not _normal kids_ can do..."

Katsu goes silent. And then, his face darkens a little. "Is it really as powerful as they say?"  
"It is."  
"...Kid, you gotta listen to me."  
Kubo leans in at Katsumaru's dire tone, taken aback by it. "...What is it?"  
  
"...You gotta give me that sword."


	5. A Kappa, Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In an attempt to drive the Kappa from the village, Kubo learns how easy it is to bite off more than he can chew.

"No, I can't give you this!" Kubo's hand reaches for the hilt and grips it tight almost involuntarily, guarding it from possible reach. Even if he had it coming, the boy was astounded by Katsumaru's demand.  
  
"What do you mean 'no?' You expect anyone to let a child keep one of the most powerful weapons known to mankind in their hands?"  
  
Kubo grips the hilt tighter. He had no intent to draw it, but he sees how Katsumaru leans in. Even if the young man was still injured, he could lunge for it, and the boy wasn't about to let it be taken from him. "It rightfully belongs to me."

" _Rightful,_ yeah. As if a sword forged by the gods themselves should rightfully belong in the hands of any man."  
Katsumaru reaches toward the hilt of the sword. It's master violently jerks away, keeping the scabbard out of reach.

"I _earned_ it," Kubo sharply hisses, his nose wrinkling indignantly. "-in the Temple of Bones. I defeated the demon that guarded it, and therefore it's mine."  
  
Katsumaru scoffs again, his lip curling into a forced, mocking grin. The young man sits up further, resting his bandaged arms into his lap, waving off Kubo's claim. "Exactly why are you here to help us, huh?" He snides, "You're after the money? Trying to make it big while you're still young? Or are you just here to prove a point? To show that you're some _big hero?_ "  
  
"It's...none of your business. It's a personal matter, but I'm not here for the money." The young bard retorts, frowning. "I need the sword. It's _mine._ "  
  
"Now you're just sounding selfish."

Kubo's frown tightens into a challenging glare.

"Do you know how many lives could be saved with a weapon as powerful as that?" Katsumaru glances thoughtfully toward the roof while he leans against the walls of their little room. "Whatever's attacking this village could shudder and flee at the mere sight of it alone! In the right hands, of course. Do you think they'd be intimidated by a reckless little kid?" There's a chuckle. "A bandit or even a samurai might see you with it and steal it from you. And then what? An indestructible, powerful item would then by in the hands of people who care more about fighting and stealing more than saving lives."

At Katsumaru's words, the child's frown begins to soften and morph. Something doubtful and uncertain begins to wiggle its way deeper into his chest. It had been there before; the feeling that he wasn't as capable as he hoped, but until now Kubo had stuffed it away and kept it down for the sake of necessity. Even if he couldn't, he needed to try. His grandfather _depended_ on it.

 _"Do you want that to happen?"_  
  
The question is like a knife taken to his confidence. Tawny eye filling with his growing disquiet, he forces himself to stay silent. _I don't know._ He **_didn't_** know. He didn't want to admit it in words, but his expression spoke volumes for him. Kubo's eye closes shut, but his hand remains tightly closed around the scabbard. If there is one thing he's certain of, it's that he cannot lose the sword. Even if it wasn't in the best hands, he still **_needs_** it.

Katsumaru seems to sense his distress. The teenager exhales, and slides down back into his bed. "Fine, have it your way. You're just gonna end up endangering yourself, kid." Clearly vexed, the older boy grabs the edge of his blanket and yanks it over his shoulder, twisting his body so that he faced away from Kubo and towards the wall instead. "I'm going to sleep."  
  
Feeling dreadful quiet begin to sink in, Kubo sighs through his nose and feels his entire body deflate with it. The doubt had certainly left a sour taste in his mouth and riddled him with the first few bites of fear he'd gotten since he'd arrived here. _But you must get through it,_ he reminds himself, _remember what you came here to do.  
  
_And as far as he knows, Kubo must face it alone.

He stretches himself out on his own mat, and pulls his sleeves close to his nose. Since he'd washed them, his robes smell less like sea salt and burning wood -- the smells of _home._ But he still holds the fabric close, for their texture alone comforts him.

The moon hangs high above the town, and the stars twinkle bleakly in the darkening sky.

* * *

He hadn't gotten any sleep. How could he, after Katsu had tried to steal his sword not long before? Night has fallen but Kubo does not trust that he'll wake with the sacred weapon in his hands if he falls asleep now. The child had work to do, anyways.  
  
Against his better judgement and his circadian rhythm, Kubo kept himself awake into the later hours of the night. When he was certain he could hear the soft rise and fall of Katsumaru's breathing, he got to work and quietly departed from the bedroom. His hosts had long since fallen asleep as well; there was no sign of Hana or Juro, but Kubo could hear gentle snoozing from across their little home. In the open space where the Irori sits, Kubo tightens the strap that fastened the Sword Unbreakable to his hip, ensuring it was secure. He runs his fingers across the silk of his shamisen, ensuring that the strings were snug and not worn. As he tests his gear quietly, his eye wanders and finds a bow pressed up against the nearest wall.  
  
It's old and clearly worn from the elements, and the lack of a bowstring indicates that it hasn't been used for some time. Nevertheless, he figures it could be useful in this situation. Though he had no quiver or arrows, Kubo could make his own; the right magic could turn his creations into suitable ammo, at least, for drawing out or distracting the enemy. Even if the bow wasn't his, Kubo only planned on borrowing it. So, the child very carefully tip-toes with it outside, retrieving his waraji sandals and slipping them on in the process.

When he's out in the clear, Kubo sits himself down against the doorway and pulls three hairs from his head. Mirroring a trick taught to him by his mother, he ties the pieces into one small braid -- it's not very decent, but thick enough to make a substitute bowstring, and he strings it across the worn bow he'd retrieved.

The weapon dangles awkwardly off its body. Much to Kubo's chagrin, it's an awfully big bow, one that he knows he won't be able to accomplish much with very easily given his small figure. But he must work with it, and at least it is light. The sky was particularly clear over the town and the moon offered some visible light. It was the perfect opportunity for hunting down a monster in hiding.

Kubo psyches himself up, and says a small prayer and thoughts to his parents. Then he makes his way toward the river.  
  
The stream is well hidden from far away. Tall wild grasses sprout in bunches around fountain bamboo. The grass is uneven, with short patches closer to the dirt path and other areas grossly untended to. A slope curved down towards the bank: it wasn't a steep one, but it wasn't exactly gentle, either. If he were to slip, Kubo would probably roll right on down into the water.

Reminding himself to be careful, Kubo decides to use the tall grass for cover and doesn't come any closer than the slope's edge. He can see the moon reflecting on the river, it's shape moving and bobbing with the waves peacefully. Deceivingly.  
He's not going to try wasting his paper just yet. The boy digs his feet around in the dirt thoughtfully, and he reaches for a rock that was hidden somewhere against the soil. With a small grunt, he winds his arm back and chucks it into the water.  
  
_Plunk._ The rock makes a small splash, but the water remains undisturbed. Kubo squints carefully. Was there anything moving?  
_Nothing yet._ So he tosses another one, a bigger one this time, and its splash sprays across the reflection of the moon.  
  
_Still nothing._ Maybe it wasn't _in_ the river? Or maybe the monster was tricking him, luring him to come closer.  
  
_"Hello, sprout."_  
  
A monotone voice calls from behind him. Kubo whirls around, frightened, and comes face to face with a pair of beady red eyes hidden under greasy hair, and a turtle's beak.  
Before the creature can even move, he draws his sword. The sound of cold metal echoes into the air as the shimmering blade reveals itself beneath the moonlight.  
  
In response, the beast almost _leaps_ backward. It takes a few frantic steps away, right into the short grass.  
Even in this level of darkness, Kubo can see it clearly enough. It stood roughly as tall as he, maybe even a little smaller. It's arms were well build and muscular, and covered with fine hair that was as gold as barley grass. It's head was turtle-like, and its bald scalp was surrounded by a ring of long hair that nearly obscured its glowing eyes. It looked like it had just crawled out of the water a short time ago, for its webbed claws and feet dripped wet. It's hard beak was curved in a perpetual smile.  
  
"Whoa, you ought' to be careful with that. Haven't children any manners these days?" The kappa's voice was smooth, dry, and monotone -- full of character in spite of its lack of emotion.  
  
Kubo steadied himself. _Manners._ He knew about kappas ; they were strong, and good at wrestling their prey. He recalls his mother telling him a story about a man who once used their greatest weakness to his advantage, however--by bowing as a greeting. Kappas were naturally sophisticated, and had an irresistible urge to show their good manners. So when the kappa bowed back, the dish in his head, the source of his strength, spilled the water it contained, weakening it drastically.  
  
He sheathes his sword, if only briefly, and bows to the kappa respectfully. "Good evening." He greets, barely hiding the small smile that flashed across his face.  
The kappa bows back. But much to Kubo's surprise, water does not spill from its head. The faint moonlight illuminates the top of the monster's cranium; revealing a solid top. It seemed that this creature kept a cap sealed tight on his head.  
  
Well, it wasn't going to be easy, was it?  
  
"What's a tasty lookin' sprout like you doing out here in the middle of the night?" The kappa tilts its head to one side. Kubo cannot help but feel that its red eyes were burning into his soul. They stared unblinkingly, wide-eyed and creepy-looking.  
Kubo's lip curls in discomfort from them. "I should ask you the same thing, kappa. You belong in the river, yet here you stand in the dry grass. Why did you not wait for me at the water's edge to drag me down?"  
  
"Humans don't come to the river anymore." the kappa steps forward, _encroaching,_ stalking.  
Kubo's fingers tighten around the hilt of his sword.  
"I've had no choice but to crawl out and drag them over myself..."  
  
"Why do you haunt this place? Samurai have come all over just to kill you. If you left they won't have your head. Why do you stay?"  
"Heh," the kappa chuckles. "More offerings to the river. Haven't needed to leave. We've have plenty to eat now."  
  
_We?_  
  
"Y'know, most sprouts don't have a lot to sustain us with, but you look _mighty_ tasty." The kappa raises his claws, and the perpetual grin on his sharp beak seems to darken.

Kubo pulls out his sword again just as the monster lunges. _"Ragh!"_

It slams into him. Unbreakable's blade appears with another cold, metallic _shnng!_ and he feels it hit something. Kubo doesn't have a chance to look, because suddenly he's rolling down the hill with the kappa in tow. He can feel it toppling over and off of him. Both of them come to a stop just inches from the waters edge, and a few feet apart from each other. Nearby, Kubo can hear the kappa's ghastly _scream._  
The demon cries out like it was in pain. It's limbs flail and kick like a helpless infant. Though Kubo's vision swims, he can just barely see what appeared to be a webbed hand rolling just a short ways away from his face. A viscous, foul smelling liquid oozes from it, staining the grass and making his stomach twist with nausea.  
  
The kappa tosses about and grabs a hold of its shoulder. He'd sliced off its arm!  
**_"KEEAAAARGH!"_**  
  


The kappa screeches again, and the water begins to churn. Still dizzy from their tumble, Kubo struggles to recollect his equilibrium while dozens upon dozens of silhouettes began to erupt from the surface. They all coalesce at the edge of the bank, snarling and laughing while the river is ripped asunder.  
  
**_By the gods, there were more._**  
  
He yelps. His adrenaline kicks into gear and, fighting his dizziness, he hauls himself into the opposite direction in a frantic effort to start climbing his way back up. Yet the kappa are all much too fast for him, and Kubo has barely even begun before he feels webbed claws wrap tight around his ankles and yank him backwards. He screams and tosses, and thoughtlessly drops the sword Unbreakable while both hands dig into the soil in a desperate attempt. More claws reach and grab his waist, his torso, his shoulders.  
  
He's absolutely powerless to stop a horde of monsters piling around him en masse while he's easily pulled into the river. He's being yanked under the water, and all he can do is take one deep breath as it washes over his head.  
  
The river is dark and violent. He cannot tell which way is up or down because the kappa are so many that it's just as dark as it were with his eye closed! He can feel one bear-hugging him around his arms, keeping them bound to his torso while others continue to drag him down. Kubo is losing air quickly, and though he kicks and flails, he simply cannot get free!  
  
He remembers the first time he nearly drowned. He was seven and more naive. It had just rained, and he had slipped on the rocks and fallen into the gushing river near his village. He remembers how scared he was that his mother wasn't there and that he wouldn't get to see her again. Had an old fisherman not witnessed him fall, he probably would have drowned. After he was hauled away from the current, that man taught Kubo to swim, and he had him to thank for his life.  
  
The second time he barely recalls. It was in the Long Lake. He remembers seeing his mother in a monkey's form, and beetle's figure rushing down to retrieve him. But Kubo had been in a trance in that moment, and the pain that had filled his lungs and the seconds before he fell unconscious were all but blurry memories.  
  
He'd never thought he'd be in the same situation again but here he was, and he was quickly beginning to panic. Bubbles rose in plumes from his mouth and nose as his lungs began to burn. He opens his mouth but water just comes rushing in!  
  
The river becomes to stained with dark blood.  
  
He doesn't notice it but the horde holding him captive has suddenly decreased in number. One moment he's flailing, trying to free himself from the kappa still holding him and the next, there's a violent _yank_ on his robes, a dull groan from his captor, and something pulling him upward. Half conscious, Kubo barely registers how light he's become and he simply just keeps kicking.  
  
The next moment, he feels himself burst out of the water and he sucks a deep breath in response. He hacks. _Cough, cough, cough, cough!_ He cannot stop coughing!  
Kubo's hearing was muffled now, but he can still pick up the conglomerate of snarls and animalistic screams while he's heaved out of the water. Something is slashing and cutting through the mob, shouting something incomprehensible.  
  
The boy's senses finally flood back to him as his wheezing briefly ceases and fresh air finally makes its way into his lungs. The sword Unbreakable was no longer in his grasp, so clammily, he reaches for the next best thing, the familiar weight that always pressed itself up against his back -- his **_shamisen._** In times of desperation, Kubo's magic was often wild and destructive, fueled by pure instinct and desire to survive. It does not come more easily than it does now, snaking up his arms, itching and burning deep into his palms.  
  
The magic comes in the form of a bright, golden aura which glows vibrantly from his fingers. The boy swings his shamisen around and, at the nearest opportunity, _rakes_ his fingers down the strings. With anguish the child yells. The violent magic is channeled through the instrument and explodes outward as a powerful force field, sweeping away the hoarde of kappa from Kubo and his rescuer.  
  
Several monsters are flung back into the river, others into the grass, disheveled from the mighty blast. As Kubo is pulled further up onto the hill, they begin to retreat back into the water, squealing like terrified pigs.  
  
"Kid! Kid, are you alright?! Damn it, kid, what did you think you were doing?!"  
The scold falls on deaf ears. Just as quickly as it had come back to him, Kubo's consciousness begins to fade out. Though powerful, an outward blast like that was detrimental to his strength. It was new and untamed, unlike the little origami figures he so endeared. Thusly, it sapped him of his energy faster than a leech.  
  
More voices could be heard; panicked women and shouting men, their words lost in the growing uproar.  
  
_"Kid! Kid?! Stay with me, Kubo!"_  
He cannot. Kubo shuts his eye and lets everything go dark.  
  


* * *

  
...It's bright.  
  
When he comes to again, that's the first thing he notices. It's bright and the light was overwhelming even with his eye shut. With a weak little groan, Kubo forces his eye open and tries to take in his surroundings.  
He's on a mat, back in the room he'd shared with Katsumaru. It was daylight now, and he can hear sparrows chirping in the bushes outside. A warm and dry robe has been placed over his body as a blanket.  
  
The boy was tired, but he knows he's unharmed. Last night's events feel like a blur to him, and he's still trying to recall everything that had happened before he fell unconscious as he tries to sit himself up. His robes, his momohiki and kyahan had been set aside and neatly made, as though they had been washed. The smell of food cooking in the irori past the doors tells him that there were others awake.  
  
With a soft sigh, Kubo pulls the kimono closer over his shoulders, clutching the edge between his hands. He's still trying to make sense of things.  
  
The door slides open with a wooden _shuttah._ Katsu steps in with a bowl of rice in hand, donning large peasant robes. He's just setting the bowl down when he notices the child. "You're awake!"  
Unlike last night, Katsu holds a far more pleasant air. The smile on his face looks like one of genuine relief, but Kubo doesn't buy it immediately.  
"That was a quick turn around." He mutters softly.  
  
"Glad to see you're still a brat." Katsumaru chuckles in reply and slides the bowl of rice over to him with a pair of chopsticks. "You need to eat. Get your strength back, you know what my gran will say if you don't."  
  
Kubo stiffens, momentarily surprised by the young man's upbeat attitude. _Why has he suddenly turned around?_ The child squints with scrutiny. "You're just here to give this to me?"  
"No, actually I wanted to check on you." Katsu replies while he sits himself down on his own mat. The young man cocks his head, and his smile seems to even soften a little. "You know, I didn't really notice the eyepatch, but even if I did I wouldn't have thought your whole eye was _gone._ "

Almost involuntarily, Kubo runs his hand over his eyepatch.  
\--Except, there was no eyepatch. The familiar leathery surface was gone, and instead his fingers ran over the grossly scarred, old remnants of a sunken eyelid, where his left eye _used_ to be --  
Kubo gasps loudly in terror, and immediately darts his head around to search for it. Luckily he spies the eyepatch strewn beside the rest of his clothes. He lunges for it and ties it back around his head.  
  
Heated, Kubo shoots a look at Katsu dryly once it's fastened back over where it should be. "...Please don't ask about it."  
"I wasn't going to."  
"It happened when I was really little."  
  
Truthfully, the fact that he was missing an eye never bothered him. He had lost it when he was too young to remember, and he had grown up without it just fine.  
How he lost his eye and the chaos surrounding it was another story entirely.  
  
Rather than stew in their silence, however, Kubo takes the bowl of rice and stuffs his mouth full. He wasn't that hungry, but he'd rather distract himself with food than divulge the history of his scars.  
  
Katsumaru seems to respect this sentiment. The older teenager sat silently, his smile steadily falling as the moments passed by. "You've been through a lot, huh?"  
A pause.  
"Listen, I wanted to say sorry for the way I acted last night. I may be older and wiser but I shouldn't have been a jerk. You...didn't deserve that."  
  
Despite his mouth being full, Kubo can't help but shoot another look back up at Katsumaru and speak. "R--" He swallows. _"Really now?"_  
"I'm being honest, kid." The older's expression softens further and he rubs the back of his neck. It was easy to see that he was regretting his actions. And was that -- did Kubo see a hint of humility in that face? "I'm still mad about you being reckless, but it was still wrong for me to act like an asshole about it."  
  
"Last night...was that...?" The dots start to connect in Kubo's head. He remembers the Sword Unbreakable slipping out of his grip, nearly drowning, and someone hacking and slashing through the mass of kappa in order to rescue him. "--My _sword._ " The child's heart sinks into his stomach. "Where's the sword? And my shamis--"  
  
"Behind you." Katsumaru gestures to the wall.  
Kubo turns his head. The Sword Unbreakable is propped up against the corner closest to his bed. It's pristine glow reflects off of the wooden polish of his shamisen, which was sitting right beside it. He sighs quietly with relief. "You...you didn't take it."  
"Actually, I was going to." Katsumaru titters and continues to massage the back of his neck.  
Kubo shoots him another small glare.  
"I _was_ going to. But I ended up falling asleep. And when I finally woke myself up, I realized you were gone."  
  
The twelve year-old stills for a moment, and his eye widens with growing realization. _"...You saved me?"_  
The smile on Katsu's face widens so much that Kubo can't help but feel remorse for his actions. The older boy nods his head, glowing. "Yeah, I did."  
  
Kubo stares down at his food. For being so young, he always had a strong composure. He's just barely able to keep his eye from welling up, but he can feel the left side of his nose grow wet. He sniffles, and continues to eat his rice quietly.  
A few minutes pass, and by then he's finished most of his meal. Both of them had been rather quiet, which Kubo liked because it allowed him to gather up his own wild emotions and register everything that had happened prior to blacking out. For the third time in his life, he feels helpless to do anything. He hates to be reminded that he is still a _child,_ and the weaknesses that came with it. _Well, do better next time,_ he always reminded himself.  
  
"But it was because of you that we actually got out alive. I guess you were right, you aren't an ordinary kid. I probably would have gotten dragged down too if you hadn't created that force field. How'd you learn to do that?"  
  
Kubo brightens a little at this. Then he chuckles, a smile finding its way on his face. "I, _uh,_ it's magic I've had since I was really young. it's not something I can properly control yet."  
  
And while he was at it, he couldn't help but wonder... "Hey Katsumaru?"  
"Yeah?"  
"...Why'd you do it?"  
"Save your life? What, I'm not about to let a child drown if I can help it."  
"Yeah but, you might have died..."  
"So what?"  
  
"Mm..." Kubo gnaws on the last few grains of rice he had between his chopsticks in thought. "So, why did you take it upon yourself to fight those things? I-in general, I mean..."  
The older teenager presses his back against the wall, an arm propping up on his knee and his chin lifting toward the ceiling. "Someone has to try."  
"But everyone else seems to have given up hope. You even said it yourself, people've already tried. So why you?"  
  
Katsumaru gives a pregnant pause. His gaze fixes skyward.  
  
"...I lost my younger brother to them."  
  
Kubo's mouth falls open. He grows silent, and his brows sink. "Your brother...?"  
  
"Yeah. He was about your age, or maybe a little younger." Katsumaru sighs, and shuts his eyes thoughtfully. "He was the last family I had left. The war took our father not long before he was born. And mom got very sick and died when he was still very little. Before she died, I made a promise to her to keep him safe..."  
"What about your grandmother and grandfather?"  
"Juro and Hana aren't my real grandparents. They just took us in after mom died. Their daughter died in childbirth not long before we lost mom, so I guess they were feeling the same pain..."  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"Heh..." Katsumaru chuckles again, and rubs his eyes, as though trying to keep tears from falling down. "You remind me of him, y'know. He was just as reckless and determined as you are. When Hiroko disappeared, it became his mission to find her. That's how we lost him ... he tried to avenge her death, but...I couldn't save him in time."  
  
"So all those things you said, was it because of him?" Kubo inquires.  
"Partially," The older smiles. "And partially because I just didn't believe you'd make a difference. It's not like there are little kids going around slaying monsters and saving the day along the countryside. My mom used to say that there's a lot of stuff worth living for. I have to save my village, but you? You have better things to do than throw away your life for strangers."  
  
Kubo's expression saddens visibly, and he nods in some reluctant acceptance. "Yeah..."  
"Speaking of which. I've told you my story, now its your turn to tell yours."  
"Huh?!"  
"You said you aren't here for money." Katsu remarks. "So why exactly are you here?"  
  
Anxiety washes over Kubo like a wave, and he swallows. Explaining his own dilemma was never something he was good at, unless he felt it'd be useful to him. (Beetle had been an exception, because a lead to his father's remnants as well as a samurai under his clan deserved to know and could be a great help on his quest.) His mother had taught him not to delve into his family history or his connections to strangers; not only because it wasn't their business to begin with, but because they likely wouldn't _understand.  
  
_But, then again, Kubo supposes it would be safe to explain why he'd left home. In truth, this quest was quite disconnected from the last, and the end goal and its ties were somewhat different. In terms of how quests usually go, this one was a little more _ordinary._ Kubo huffs in defeat and sinks deeper beneath the cover of his blanket, frowning to himself.  
  
"My grandfather is very sick. And not with something that ordinary medicine can cure." He begins, "We eventually had our village priest look after him, and they said he was being plagued by demons."  
His fingers clutch the edge of the blanket tighter. "The land where I come from is a peaceful one. Demons and wars are very few...I was told to come here, to the Kaga Province. Supposedly demons are a lot more common here. There's one I have to kill. Or maybe many. They said that I can save my grandfather if I find the one who's been attacking him."  
  
"So y' just...left the rest of your family?"  
"I _have_ no other family." Kubo barks lightly. "I don't have any siblings. And I lost my mother and father a few months ago."  
Katsu flinches, and looks on in sympathy. "...You and I aren't so different, huh."  
  
"No, I would say we aren't." The young bard smiles back at him. "It's just weird though. That a demon could be attacking my grandfather from so far away."  
"Huh..." Katsu ponders. "Yeah, I guess it would be. But then again, gran says that demons are capable of doing very strange and powerful things. That's why you shouldn't mess with them."  
  
"But what happens when they mess with you, first?"  
  
Katsumaru doesn't answer that. He already seems thoughtful, poignant and uncertain. The look on the older's face is contagious; Kubo finds himself frowning again, the remorse for his own recklessness still lingering in his chest.  
The door slides open with another _shuttah_ \--and Hana appears, her face looking somewhat grim and worriesome. Luckily it melts away within a half second--relief rushes in to overwhelm when she sees the young bard awake.  
  
"Oh, thank goodness, you're awake!" The elder rushes to his side and falls to her knees, wrinkled fingers gently cupping the side of Kubo's face in caring fashion. Embarrassed by the gesture, Kubo squeezes his eye shut and jerks his head away just slightly. Frankly he doesn't remember the last time he'd gotten so much attention, and it flustered him so much. But then again, when was the last time he'd done something so rash? _He_ was supposed to be the village hero!  
  
Despite his efforts, he does not fight when Hana reaches for his face again and tilts his chin like a mother checking over their wounded child. Though he cannot help but wince inwardly in humiliation. This only felt like a knife to his pride.  
  
After a few moments, Hana releases him. "You only got a few scratches. You're a lucky boy, the gods must be smiling down on you. Katsumaru--"  
"He already knows, granny." Katsumaru interjects softly. "I told him everything."  
  
"Yes, Katsumaru saved your life. It's a miracle both of you got out alive..." Hana's hands tremble, and they fall into her lap. There is bittersweet air about her, and Kubo could tell by the way she wrung her fingers together. "I'm so sorry, Kubo. If we had known any better, I wouldn't have encouraged you. All this time we thought it had just been one, or maybe a few monsters ... but there are too many. Even for you both, little one."  
  
A spike of anger rouses in his chest, although Kubo wasn't quite sure why. He didn't like the way she blamed herself, neither the fact that this whole dilemma was something he could not defeat alone. Massaging his cheek, Kubo directs a small scowl to both of them and shakes his head deliberately. "Please, you cannot think that way. There's nothing wrong with being hopeful."  
  
"He's right, gran," Katsumaru adds, "We're both alive, and not by my merits alone. Besides, now we know just what is going on in that river."  
  
Hana's eyes shimmer, if only for a moment. She forces a smile, fighting against her own distress. Then she pushes off of her knees and takes the now empty bowl of rice that Kubo had finished.  
"I'd like both of you to rest. Especially you, my grandson. You're still recovering." She shoots a look at the teenager. "Please, Kubo, I don't want you going after those kappa again." Her voice quivers while her hand clutches the edge rim of the bowl tighter.  
Your intentions are kind and pure, but please, I don't want to lose another child again..."  
  
A knot forms in Kubo's stomach. So does a lump in his throat. Reluctantly he swallowed and nodded. "Yes ma'am..."  
It was a deliberate lie, and that was the hardest part about it.  
  
The elder dips her head in acknowledgement and steps out, sliding the door shut behind her. Only after the soft footfall of her feet across the floor fell out of earshot did either of the boys speak again.  
  
"...So what now?" Kubo winces.  
"Well, what do you think?" Katsumaru retorts.  
"We can't just let the kappa terrorize the village."  
"I don't disagree. But I don't think it's something that you and I can do by ourselves."  
  
Katsumaru has a point, and Kubo had considered it himself. This was not a two-man job, and definitely not a job that could be completed with just hacking and slashing. "Give me some time, I've gotta think about this..." He states in defeat, tawny eye drawing to the mat.  
"So long as you don't go into the river again."  
"You have to promise not to do it either, Katsu."  
"I won't be. Not until we figure out how to take care of these guys. But in the meantime, I guess we oughta both rest up. _Damn._ "  
  
He heard the frustration in Katsu's voice and couldn't help but agree with it. To do nothing while a village lies at the mercy of ten dozen kappa never leaves Kubo feeling good. With a sigh he sinks deeper into his mat. Somewhere in his thoughts, his eye finds its way onto the old, lackluster blade that the older boy owned, still stained with the dried blood of one of the monsters. "Hey, Katsu. You said your father was a samurai, right?"  
  
"Mmhm?"  
"How good is your swordsmanship?" An idea slips into Kubo's head and he sits up, brushing away dark brown locks.  
"Eh, it's good enough. Before he died my dad taught me a few moves, and I've been practicing ever since." Katsumaru remarks. "I did it in case I'd need to protect the village one day."  
A sliver of hope snakes its way back into Kubo's chest, and he sits up, grinning enthusiastically. "So--you could teach me, right?"  
  
"Eh?"  
"I only know a little. I keep the sword for my protection but the truth is...I'm really not that good at it." The boy sheepishly admits. "Prior to last night I've only had to use it once. Once you get better again, will you train me?"  
  
Katsu's brows raise, and his mouth slips ajar for a few moments, reflecting his surprise. "Well...sure, kid. I think I can do that. Y'know after that blast you gave em, I don't think the kappa will be coming out of the river without rethinking their choices yet first. Who knows, maybe we've scared em right out of the water?"  
"  
"You think so? I mean, not to be downer or anything but we shouldn't count our chickens before they hatch--"  
_"Hahaha."  
  
_There's a spark in the teenager's eye, one that Kubo had not quite seen until this very moment. "Yeah, who knows, we might have a chance at this yet. We found out _vital information_ last night, something that we could use to our advantage. I hate to admit it to you, runt, but, maybe you've given me a little more hope after all."  
  
The little bard cannot help but beam.  
"...Hey, Katsu?"  
"Yeah?"  
  
Kubo slides back under the blanket and turns to face Katsumaru. "Thank you for saving my life."  
"You're welcome, Kubo."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will wrap up the Kappa arc, and then Kubo will be crossing paths with the boys very soon! Hope you enjoyed this chapter!  
> Status Update as of 4/10/20: next chapter is almost done! Sorry that progress has been so slow!


	6. A Kappa, Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While recovering from their injuries, Kubo and Katsumaru must prepare to defeat the kappa and garner help along the way.

The sound of summer songbirds did little to ease his unrest.

The days went by fleetingly. As though to offer them respite, the gods had relented the clouds and given way to vast stretches of spotless sky.  
But the heat, on the other hand, was relentless. Summer did not announce itself kindly, and it swept over the land in a massive wave, the air hot, sticky and merciless to its denizens like ants under a spyglass. Their only relief, the sparse but refreshing gusts of cool air flying in from the sea.

With the heat yet again so aggravating, Kubo spent the first three days after his unfortunate encounter with the kappa horde indoors, recuperating with Katsumaru. Since he was without any major injuries, the younger of the two recovered quickly, so once he was able to he got to aiding his hosts in their daily chores in return for their hospitality. As far as he knew, the plan to drive out the kappa was on hold until Katsu was strong enough. Even then, an actual attempt wasn't going to be made until they had both trained, and -- hopefully, persuaded others in the village to join in their cause. This was not a two-man job (or a man and a child's job, given Kubo's age,) it was going to take the entire village.  
  
But, how exactly were they going to do that? Well, that was also a conundrum for Kubo to mull on.  
  
"Were you trying to use this bow, boy?"  
  
The twelve year-old had stumbled in with a sloshing pail of water, encumbered by the heavy weight. He had waddled back inside his host's home with the handle in both hands. With a grunt, he slipped off his sandals, and lifted the pail so he could hold it by its bottom just as Juro had called to him.  
  
The elder was balancing the old bow Kubo had borrowed in his arms, and he looked somewhat puzzled by the hairs that substituted for a bowstring.  
Kubo tittered sheepishly under his breath, set the pail down, and stretched his arms into the air. "Yes. I'm sorry for taking it. I noticed it didn't have a bowstring, so I..."  
  
Juro turned his head, offering a genuine, albeit a little bewildered, smile in the red-clothed youth's direction. "I never would have expected someone of your stature to use one. You can loose an arrow? I haven't used this in ages..."  
Kubo perked up immediately, and brushed the side of his own neck with a hand. "My father taught me! I'm actually pretty good at it, I think. We used them to fish once."  
  
The fond memory of gathering fish in the middle of a fire colored lake warmed his heart.  
  
"Welcome back, Kubo." In stepped Hana, who exited from her bedroom with a food tray in hand. Her face is wrinkled and furrowed around a genuine smile.  
"I've got the water like you asked for!"  
"Good, you're a kind child to do this for us. I'll fill up the kettle. Set that out to dry once I'm done, and dinner should be started soon."  
  
"You'll be joining us again tonight, right?" Juro inquired.  
There's a pause. The boy spent at least three nights here, any longer and he knows he'll start losing count.  
  
Kubo's chest panged with a sense of anxiety. He wanted to aid this village and drive out the kappa, but now he could just be wasting precious time. The young man with the sword arms was probably far ahead of him by now, and his grandfather? There was no telling how well the elder's spirits were. _Did he know his grandson was gone? Did he miss him?_  
  
 _But it was also late now._ The clans surrounding this territory were still on edge, and rain, becoming scarcer by the day. Even if he wanted to leave it wasn't going to be tonight. And besides, a few swordsmanship lessons with Katsumaru could be vital.  
"You're sure you don't mind? You've both done so much for me." Kubo winced.  
  
"Nonsense, child!" Laughed Hana as she emptied the water into the kettle. "You think I'm about to let a boy your age leave town all on his lonesome when those samurai could attack each other any day? Set out that pail now, and come sit."  
  
And so, with restlessness gnawing at his chest, Kubo reluctantly obeyed.

* * *

It grown hotter. So much so that most of the remaining villagers hid away in their homes, desperate to abate the blistering sun. Unlike them, Kubo did not miss out on the opportunity to escape the confines of his host's household. The past few days had yielded no results, not from Katsumaru's scheming mind, nor from the riverbank, which had remained relatively quiet since Kubo's failed assault on the kappa. Granted, no one had dared come near it, besides him. Rather tentatively, the boy had chosen to approach it in the middle of broad daylight, away from the shrubbery that may have obscured any lurking figures.  
  
To his curiosity, the river had receded in size. It made sense: between the heat and the lack of rain, it very quickly diminished. Though he could not see the bottom of the river, or even past the murkiness below its surface, Kubo figured that it probably wasn't aiding the kappa stalking somewhere within.  
  
"It's quiet, huh?" Katsumaru's voice chirps up from behind him.

Kubo turns and sees the older teenager approaching him, clothed in a simple peasant's kimono and trousers. The young man's arms were still bandaged, but his wounds had healed enough that they were probably unnecessary. The child smiles, and nods. "Yeah. You think maybe we scared them off?"  
  
"Doubtful." Katsumaru shakes his head and props his hands on his hips while he rests at the younger's side. "There may be less and we may have given em' a run for their money, but the water's still murky."  
"It wasn't like that before?" Muses Kubo, tilting his head.  
"Nope. On days like this, Usually you can see the river's bottom. But it's all mucked up cause' of them. They're still there." Katsu replies. He turns his head and flashes a determined smile. "I imagine it's getting cramped down there for em. If it keeps up like this it won't be long before they're forced to go into the sea. But then again, all our crops'll die out."

Ah, what a conundrum. Kubo continues to muse to himself quietly, gaze turning toward the edge of the dry rice paddy that he could just barely see from where the two of them stood. The growing stalks had begun to turn pale with thirst. 

"Well, enough of that, kid. You wanna do some sword practice?" As if to sense Kubo's pensiveness, Katsu pipes up with a bit of rare optimism. Kubo perks up immediately.  
"Are your arms back to normal!?"  
"Yeah, I can use them well enough. So you wanna work on your swordsmanship or what?"  
 _"Do I ever!"_

* * *

**_"Ooph!"_ **

Feet swept out from under him, Kubo falls backwards on his bottom. The wooden stick that substituted for his sword fell with a dull thud not far behind him. He groans, massages his backside, and pushes himself back up again.  
  
They had gone away from the river and found a grassy field just beyond the rice paddies, away from any suspicious bodies of water. Katsumaru remarked that he and his father used to practice together before the latter ultimately died; and though he did not often visited it, it had held a special place in the teen's heart. Within the little meadow, there were two long wooden staffs, one of which Katsumaru offered to Kubo.  
  
 _"I thought you said we were swordfighting."_  
 _"We are."_  
 _"But shouldn't we use actual swords?"_  
 _"It depends. In your case, do you want to end up accidentally cutting yourself on one of the sharpest weapons known to man?"_  
 _"No..."_  
 _"Yeah, exactly. Take the stick, kiddo."  
  
_ Thusly, here they were. Despite the wretched heat, Kubo found the opportunity to practice his fighting skills refreshing -- except, this was the second time since they'd started that he'd gotten swept off of his feet.  
"Ow, why do you keep aiming for my legs? No samurai strikes that low!"  
"Uh, yeah they do. It's not uncommon." Katsumaru retorts, "If I were using a real sword, your legs would be gone. Or, especially with your height, your entire lower half would be gone."  
  
Kubo grunts and Katsu's explanation as he stands up again, dusting his kimono.  
"Also, your gait's off. You need a wider stance. Come on, squirt! Focus! I thought you said you _earned_ the Sword Unbreakable!"  
"I did!" Barks Kubo, hastily reaching for his staff. "I just needed to catch my bearings. Now," The youth raises it so that it rests just in front of his arms. "Again!"  
  
 _"Ha! Ha!"_ So again, Katsumaru strikes. Golden grass stalks crunch underfoot, and the sound of summer birds curtail beneath the wind that rushed past his ear as they swing at one another. Their staffs struck together in a dance of parries and blocks, the wooden clack of each collision resounding in the air.  
To Kubo, a sword did not come as naturally as a bow and arrow. He'd inherited his father's keen marksmanship but the art of the blade was clumsy for him. Nevertheless, it almost felt instinctual: sensing where Katsumaru was going to aim and swinging his staff at the other.  
  
"Good, good!" Katsumaru praises him over their battle cries, "Remember that your sword is an extension of yourself! The goal is to create an opening while defending all your weakpoints. Parry your enemy's sword; be it fangs, claws, or another weapon. Strike when the moment's right!"  
  
Between his words, Kubo noticed Katsumaru's hand, which swung with less precision than before. He was distracted while he explained, and it gave just the opening the younger was looking for!  
Using his small height to his advantage, Kubo lunges forward and swipes upward with his staff, pushing Katsumaru's arm into the air and knocking his staff clean out of his grip. It flips into the air before falling, landing, and tumbling gracelessly through the grass.  
  
The younger child feels a burst of pride in his chest and he beams smugly at his opponent, boasting: "Hah, now your arm's gone!"  
"Very funny, kid." Quips Katsu as he goes to retrieve his fighting stick. "You only won because I was distracted."  
" _Who_ needs to focus again?" Kubo only smirks wider, resting his hands on his hips.  
"Hahaha, don't get too comfy."  
Katsumaru pauses for a beat once he's returned with his stick. Then, "Think fast!"  
  
He swings low, this time right for Kubo's chest. Involuntarily, the young bard before him swings upward in a full-blown uppercut. The sound of wood clashing against one another cuts clean into the summer air once more.  
 _"Oooh!"_ Coos Katsumaru, impressed.  
  
"Thought you'd get me again, huh?" The child chuckles between a gasp, as he leans downward to catch his breath.  
"Well, you're lucky I'm going easy on you," The older teen remarks, resting his staff. "Else I would have tried to swing for your head."  
"Let's not. Let's not." Kubo waves his arm.  
  
"You know, I'm surprised you're actually this good. I imagined you were just bluffing about taking the sword. Your skills aren't exemplary, but they're a lot better than I expected. I was anticipating, ah..."  
"Going against someone who had absolutely no experience or idea as to what he's doing?" Kubo finishes smugly.  
"Precisely." Katsumaru swaps his staff into his other hand. "I was expecting I'd have to teach you the basics or something. Did you learn from someone else?"  
  
"Uh, self taught. Observed. A mix of the two..." The child is hesitant to delve into the details, and he scratches his head nervously. He wasn't really lying; during the time they were both alive, neither of his parents taught him how to hold and use a sword. It had been based on pure observation and raw talent that he inherited from both of them. "A-anyway. Shall we continue?"  
  
"You got it, kid."  
  


* * *

  
They'd practiced until the sun touched the horizon and they had worked themselves an appetite under the baking heat. To keep the sweat at bay Kubo washed his arms, his face and neck with cool well water, rubbing away the dirt that now patched his skin along with whatever little nicks and bruises he'd gained from sword fighting. His thumbs looked like they were on the verge of blistering, but he had overworked his hands before. Years of hard, earnest work maintaining his little homestead, exploring the trails around his village and practicing on his shamisen had made them calloused. In recent months, Kubo had devoted his time to helping rebuild his village. This was nothing new to him.  
  
The two boys had returned to Katsu's home and were welcomed by a fresh meal. Sitting nearby the kettle was Juro, this time, with the old bow Kubo had borrowed still in his hands. He was fiddling with something: the makeshift string Kubo had put together from his own hair was gone, and it looked as though the elder was trying to polish and refine the weapon.  
  
"Gramps? You finally pulling out the old bow again?" Asks Katsu between mouthfuls of food.  
"Perhaps," Juro mumbles, clearly fixated on his work. With old wrinkled hands he ran a rag across its wooden frame. "At the very least, we could probably sell this thing for money. I don't think I'm strong enough to use it anymore." The elder then faces Kubo, who was eating his rice with gusto. "If I can find a new bowstring for this thing, maybe I'll let you have a crack at it, boy. What do you think?"  
  
Kubo swallows his mouthful of food and smiles. "I'd be glad too! Katsumaru, do you know how to use a bow?"  
Katsu scoffs and lifts his head. "Never been very fond of it. Father taught me a lesson or two but I prefer a sword to a bow."  
"Well, maybe I'll teach you then." Kubo says while scooping up another chunk of rice with his chopsticks. "In return for sword practice."  
"Eh," the older boy shrugs. "We'll see about that."  
  
Later that night, as the birds retreated to their nests and Hana and Juro retired for the night, Katsumaru continued to muse from his own mat.  
  
Like him, Kubo was also restless. It had cooled down somewhat but he could still feel the residual warmth lingering around them, and there was no draft to keep him comfortable. With a mute grunt, the youngster tossed and turned under his sheet, finding relief wherever his mattress felt coolest.  
  
"Hey, Kubo." He heard Katsumaru whisper gently from his bed.  
"Yeah?"  
"I think I got an idea how we're gonna drive those kappa out."  
  
The twelve year-old rolls over and props his head in hands, tawny eye shining with interest. "Really? Let's hear it, Katsu."  
"Y'know how the river's shrunken with this drought?"  
"Uh-huh..."  
"I think we could use it to our advantage. If we use the opportunity before it rains. If we obstruct it..."  
"Yes, but Katsu," Kubo interjects, "Won't it flood if we dam it?"  
"Not while it's this small. Especially if we mitigate any of the excess water."  
"What about the ones in the ocean?"  
  
"Kappa don't last long in saltwater, or so gramps has told me. It's bad for their skin. They go too long without fresh water and they'll eventually die."  
"I get it," Kubo smirks cheekily at the idea. "So...we dam the river, then what?"  
"Bring them down where they're at their weakest: dry land." A devilish grin flashes across Katsumaru's face. "The only problem is, we're gonna need to get the village's help if we're gonna be able to do this before the rain comes."  
Kubo's thoughts spark a little idea of their own. The boy turns to his beloved shamisen thoughtfully. Its silken strings seem to glow in the dimming embers of the irori behind the paper walls. "Don't worry about that, Katsu." He smiles, "I think I can figure that out."  
  


* * *

  
Yes, persuading the village would be hard, but it was a challenge Kubo was determined to complete. If he had managed to get Hana, Juro, and Katsumaru on his side, then he could persuade the others. Morning came and went quickly, and he had spent most of it doing chores for his hosts again. Noon swung by, but even in the broad hours of daylight, the little seaside village still felt emptier than before. Having propped himself up against the wall of the home facing the marketplace street, the eccentric youth tended to his shamisen. He twisted the pegs and listened to the resulting sound that reverberated off the strings intently, while what few locals who dared step out buzzed by.

He heard the sand shift beneath a pair of sandals, the foot falls coming closer. Katsumaru had gone to get food from the few market stalls that were still open.  
  
"Hey." the familiar voice of the teen's rang out and Kubo perked his head upwards in attention.  
Katsu stood over him with a small bundle of cloth in his hands. The older boy sat himself down and unwrapped the bundle of cloth, revealing a pair of onigiri. "Got us somethin." He handed one of them to Kubo and began to munch on one himself.  
"Oh, hey, thank you, Katsumaru..." Kubo moved his shamisen so that it rested over his shoulder, and dug into the offered snack. It had grown cooler since yesterday; clouds had begun to speckle the sky, and a draft was blowing in from the sea.  
  
Enjoying the shade that the roof of Katsu's home had to offer them, the two boys stared out into the street.  
"So, you've got a plan for impressing the town, music boy?"  
"I've got a plan for getting their attention, but I'll need you to do the convincing."  
"Hah," Katsu snickers, "Yeah, I figured that. These folks don't know you..." His voice tapers and softens as the sound of a creaking cart draws near and the man hauling it comes closer down the street.  
  
He looked middle-aged, and his clothes looked worn and had patches of fabric stitched over holes. On his cart, which he pulled along himself, were baskets, mats, and farming supplies.

Katsumaru pushes himself up with haste. "Wait--Mr. Toyo, where are you going?!"  
"Away." Replies the old man, sulking. He turns to Katsu sadly. "The last of my crops cannot be saved. I have no more life here."  
"You're leaving? You've got less a chance out there alone than staying here!"  
"I'd rather die at the swift blade of a bandit than rot slowly here, Katsu. Good luck to you. I'm sorry."  
  
Toyo pushes forward, and Katsumaru, despite the reluctance clear on the teenager's face, doesn't stop him. _"Damn..."_

Kubo's expression tenses, eye narrowing. The stakes against them are rising, it seems. Time and time again he'd been told that travelling alone was suicide if one wasn't smart. He may have been young but he did not go unarmed.  
 _Wait, what is he doing just standing there?_ There's things he could do to stop this!

He sets aside his half-eaten onigiri and gets to his feet. "Wait, sir!"  
  
The old farmer stops and turns his head to see the young bard bolting in front of him. Kubo swings the instrument on his back so it hangs in front of his stomach.  
"Before you leave, let us see you off with a story." The twelve year-old offers.  
  
"Oh, you're that young stranger with the instrument. I didn't think that you and the child staying with Juro were the same. I'm sorry, but I really must leave while it's early." And Toyo begins to walk forwards again. So Kubo walks with him. The child was insistent.  
"It's still morning!" Kubo chirps. "If you'd like I'll finish the story I left of on! At the very least it may help to lift your spirits on your travels?"  
  
The farmer pauses for a few moments. He groans, rubs his chin with a large, grisly hand and sighs. "Very well then."  
  
"Wonderful." The bard gives him a grateful bow in return, and then bounds in the opposite direction, back into the empty street where he had first played not too long before. As he does so, Kubo briefly keens his head toward Katsu, and offers a smug little _wink,_ the smile on his face only growing wider. (Awkward as it looked with just one eye.)  
  
Once he's found a decent spot where he knows he can project his voice well enough, Kubo sets down his things and plucks his bachi from the sash around his waist. Katsumaru and his old farmer friend join him as his audience.

_"If you must blink, do it now!"_

The opening mantra, which carries down the street and into open doors and panels, gathers scarcely even a crowd. Yet, somehow, to the amazement of locals who had lost all hope, a few slowly picked themselves up and wandered to the young boy with the shamisen. They were more impoverished individuals -- people who were stuck outside, and there were two or three adults from his previous show that he recognized. A small group of children emerged from the alleyway -- the same ones whom he'd spoken to just a few days ago. He allowed them to gather and speak in hushed whispers, while they waited for whatever words this little storyteller would charm into their minds.

_"He stood in waiting, holding his breath for whatever would appear from the darkness of the forest."_

* * *

The paper figures moved as he described, recreating the words that flew off of his tongue.  
  
 _"The beast was vanquished, but it did nothing to rid of the emptiness in their hearts! Their son, their only child, was still lost somewhere within the forest. The sun sunk closer to the horizon, and Hanzo knew that they would have to be quick. The monster had only spent more of what precious time Hanzo and his beloved had left. Yet despite the odds against them, one thing still beat strongly in their hearts -- hope. For as long as the sun was still in the sky, they still had a chance! Pulling his blade from the marred hide of the fallen monster, Hanzo turned to back to the woods, and with his beloved, ran straight into the shadows, even as the forest groaned and shifted with the figures of creatures unseen. Against their better judgement, they called out their child's name, knowing it was the only chance to find him now, no matter how many monsters infested these wretched woods!  
  
The forest yields nothing but bellows, until finally ... a desperate cry for help."  
  
_The crowd grows larger.

 _"They knew that voice! It must be, it could have only been, the voice of their son! Together, Hanzo and his beloved race through the trees, cutting through the shadows as quickly as their swords cut through the wind. With each cry their desperation only grew. At last, past gnarled tree trunks and thorny bramble, they emerged into a clearing to find their son up against a terrible oni! The creature was truly massive, even for his kind, with tusks that were long and whetted and a club as big as a man. Its eyes were yellow, crazed, hungry for flesh --"  
  
_Children gasp in horror and cling to their loved ones, just brave enough to peer out at the tiny figures that played out Kubo's scene in the dirt. The melody of his shamisen had become tense and active, anticipating the final battle yet to come.  
He did not need to speak for the brawl that began in front of them. The duo of paper figures, red for Hanzo and yellow for his wife, raised their weapons together and raced to attack the oni head on.  
  
The smaller figure, who was darker in red and represented their child, backed up before drawing a sword of his own.  
  
 _"Their family reunited once again,_ _they joined together to take back what was theirs!"  
_

A battle ensues between the paper figurines on the ground they encircled, each one fighting with force and finesse. Origami blades sweep and slice through sheets of red, splashing the ground like crimson blood. At last, with the slash of his weapon across the oni's neck, Hanzo beheads his enemy.  
  
 _"At last, their son was retrieved, their family whole once again. The curtain of night had stretched itself across the sky. They weren't out of the woods yet, and they prepared themselves for whatever forces they would face. But surely, together, they'd--!"_  
  
 ** _DING, DONG! DING, DONG --  
  
_** There was that _damn bell_ again. The bard's breath hitches mid-sentence, and already he can feel the fear of the crowd around him.  
  
 ** _"WAIT!"_**

The child backs up, just as he feels a hand rest on his shoulder. Katsumaru steps forward and very gently pushes him behind, taking center stage instead. "Listen, I know its hard to believe, and I know that it seems impossible. Believe me. Even I began to wonder if it was any use fighting against what's plaguing our village," He raises his voice to the crowd. "But Kubo and I have both seen just what is attacking our village. Not only that, we survived! And we now know what we have to do to drive this menace and free ourselves from them!" He pauses, and swallows briefly, for he knows that the words he was about to say would surely disturb his companions.  
  
"There are dozens of kappa in that river."  
  
It's not an easy fact to swallow. Mothers begin to panic, and they scoop up their little ones. Others whisper and speak frantically to one another, mentioning departures and monsters. Katsumaru stretches his arms out, attempting to placate the uneasy crowd. "It's not something three people can fight, let alone one! Not without help! I have an idea to drive these beasts out once and for all, but I cannot do this alone! We need as many people as possible to help us!"  
  
 _"Have you gone mad, boy?! Lead all of us to die, why don't you?"_ A man hollers from the background.  
"As I've said, I know it seems impossible. Many of you have given up hope. My grandfather was among you. If it wasn't for this kid -- if it wasn't for Kubo here,"  
  
He gestures to the child, and Kubo feels his chest lighten.  
  
"I probably would have given up as well. But we don't have any better chances out there. Not when samurai are at the verge of war and just as many demons infest the Kaga province! Especially now, we have an opportunity to avenge all the lives that were taken from us. The river is drying up. We have an idea of what our enemy is, and most importantly we have a legendary weapon at our aid -- the Sword Unbreakable!"  
  
He gestures again to Kubo, and flashes the younger boy a glance.  
 _"What?"_ Kubo winces to him, hesitant.  
 _"Show them the sword!"_ Katsu whispers, tapping the hilt of the weapon at his side.  
  
Though clearly reluctant to do so, the young bard obeys, and quietly draws the holy weapon from its scabbard. Unbreakable's blade shimmers under the sunlight with incredible luster, its golden sheen so bright it practically burns the eyes.  
Their audience shakes with awe.  
  
Katsumaru continues. "If we work together, work as fast as we can, to dam up to river and force the kappa to come out before the next rainfall, we can finally reclaim our livelihoods. We need your help. You have to have hope! Lets take back our town -- once and for all! Will you join me?"  
  
...A horrible silence befalls the crowd. Steadily, and much to the boys' horror, many of their spectators begin to walk off in the opposite direction. Those who still stood looked hesitant. Soft whispers filled with uncertainty lingered in the air. Very quickly, Kubo had begun to feel his heart sink again. Even after all that, was the village really this hopeless?  
  
"I'm sorry, Katsu. You tried." Toyo, who had been present in the background, steps up to place a reassuring hand on the teen's shoulder. He squeezes it, and then returns to his cart of belongings.  
  
"Wait." A familiar elderly voice cuts in. Kubo turns to see Juro making his way toward them with a small bundle of lumber and an axe tucked under his arm. "Let the cowards go if they want. I'm not about to let my grandson do this all by himself."  
  
"There's very little I could offer in terms of assistance," woman cuts in from across. Kubo recognizes her as well -- it was the mother of those children he had spoken to. "But I'll see what supplies I can lend to you, Katsumaru."  
Her eldest child, the young boy who had scared his little sister, grinned proudly at her side.  
  
Katsumaru smiles to her. "We'll take all the help we can get. Thank you so much."  
He turns toward Toyo, who was watching from his cart. The elder looked apprehensive, even as he lifted up. "Eh..."  
  
Toyo rubs his face with a wrinkled hand again. Then, he sets down the cart, and sighs in defeat. "You're going to dam up the river? Fine. I doubt it will work, but it sounds better than attacking the bastards straight on."  
"It will work, but only if we have enough hands to help us. Get as many of the rest of the town to help as you can. We need lumber, thatch, rocks -- and as much of it as possible. Anyone who is able to carry heavy supplies like that."  
  
Beside him, Kubo's face glows. Those small their numbers were, the villagers were like little lights, slowly warming up to the chance of hope. It reminds him of his own hometown, and just how grateful he was to have had its people to grow up around. _They would have jumped at the opportunity to pitch in,_ he figures, _hopefully, they're all safe..._  
  
As their crew disperses, Katsumaru takes the time to stop the boy by placing a hand on the younger's shoulder. He sighs something of _relief_ \-- with maybe a bit of excitement thrown in there as well. The look on Katsu's face is of pure bewilderment.  
"So they're not helpful in battle, so to speak, but I guess I'd be wrong to say your origami is _completely_ useless."  
  
Kubo doesn't respond, but his expression speaks volumes for him. The cock of the brow and a slanted smirk on his face screams pride. The young demigod decides he would leave the older to figure out on his own that he was only _half_ right.  
 _It was always more fun leaving people guessing, anyway.  
  
_

* * *

  
The days went by speedily. Between sword practice sessions in the blistering heat, they found more and more supporters, either gathered by Toyo's efforts or who had originally debated on joining to begin with, just teetered with uncertainty. Every hour or so someone offered up their strength -- whether by choice or by necessity. The village's inner sense of humanity had finally begun to show itself again after weeks spent hidden, having nearly been lost to the crippling control the kappa had over it. Kubo couldn't help feeling amazed by the community's true colors.  
  
And kindness did not just appear in the form of a helpful face, either. When he was allowed time, Kubo entertained workers with his stories, telling tales of monsters and magic, love, strength, and hardship. Each time, those who joined him grew in number. Their laughs grew louder, so did their cries and gasps. It was steadily become apparent that this town was warming up to the eccentric little bard. Even if they could never replace his little hometown, they had begun to grow on him, as well.  
  
The treeline beyond the village's bridge shrank more and more each day while they worked hard to commit. With advice from Katsumaru, the village chief had positioned the dam to be built south of town, to completely dry out the stretch of stream closest to the village's territory, and to minimize the chance that one of the monsters would disrupt construction. Massive boulders were slowly lowered in to the canal, to reduce space between the water's surface and the river bottom. A hatch was constructed so that the river could be opened and closed on command. "If we work as quickly and as quietly as we can, by the time they notice what we're doing it'll be too late to do anything." Katsu remarked.  
  
By the time the dam was nearly complete, they had garnered the aid of the entire village. There was a sense of pride that Kubo felt for knowing that. When he came back to his hosts' home he'd hear Juro boasting about him and Katsu, joyously reminding them of how much doubt had been seated in their town not too long before. "Even if this idea is crazy, and even if it doesn't work, it still baffles me that a child from another village is what convinced everyone else to finally step up!"  
  
The feelings of fulfillment and success were things that Kubo had not experienced -- at least, not in such a multitude. To have the ability to bring hope to others, in spite of everything, was an incredible gift that he was only beginning to realize he had.  
  


* * *

The day was nearly upon them that the dam would be complete and the attack would ensue. This town had not seen rainfall for _over_ a month now, and the drought showed in wrinkly crops and wild grass. Despite the cool breezes and patches of cloud that rolled in from time to time, the sky had refused to open up. Only now did it seem that rain might finally approach, for stratus clouds had begun to appear on the horizon.   
  
To prepare himself for the challenge ahead, Kubo spent the afternoon practicing his marksmanship. Juro had found a suitable bowstring for the weapon, at last. Though it was awkward for the scrawny twelve year-old to carry, he was able to manage it.  
The afternoon was crawling on and the heat made it feel like an eternity, but he persevered.  
  
"Not bad, runt."  
Katsu interjects from his place in the grass just as another arrow strikes a straw target. "Better than me, actually."  
Kubo double takes, and lowers the bow. "You said you never really took it up, huh?"  
"For the most part. I think I told you before, but I tried it before my father died."  
  
"You mention him a lot, you know. You must have looked up to him."  
"I did ... I still do." Katsu murmurs thoughtfully.  
  
Kubo purses his lips. He wants to say something, he wants to admit how much he knows that feeling. Pride for ones' ancestors, and the sorrow knowing that they were gone. To think that less than a year ago his mother was still alive, telling him stories by a crackling bonfire in their seaside cave. "Y'know ... I'm sure he's probably proud of you for wanting to fight for your home."  
  
"Oh, I know he is," Katsumaru. "But, I still let them down. I let mom down and I let him down, for losing my little brother."  
Kubo knows that is the only pain he cannot share. He turns and looses another arrow while he mulls on the thought; he had never had siblings. He was the firstborn and the only child of his parents, though it's likely he would have had a sibling, had they not been discovered. "You know, sometimes I'd wish I had a big brother." He admits tentatively, before sinking his teeth into his lips.  
  
"Oh, you're the oldest?"  
"Oldest and the only."  
"Oh, right. No siblings."  
"It's hard for me to admit it, because I'm happy with my life but ... it was kind of tough. When I was eight, I ... _basically_ had to take control over our home. I think I can blame that for being able to look after myself, but, when it got hard, I sometimes wished I just had someone I could depend on."  
  
Katsumaru's brows furrow in concern. Kubo didn't see it but there was readable sympathy on his face. "The wars have taken a lot from us, huh?"  
"Yeah." It's a mutter, a faint attempt to agree. The twelve year-old huffs through his nose and shoots another arrow.  
He doesn't want to mingle on these thoughts any longer, though. Rather abruptly, he tries to change the subject. "Hey, why don't I show you how to shoot an arrow? I'm sure you could get it down!"  
"Hahahaha, no thanks, Kubo." Katsumaru chuckles, and leans back in the grass. "I think I'll stick with the sword for now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I was going to have this be longer and wrap up the Kappa arc, but after some deliberation in my head I decided I'm going to make the finale a separate, short chapter all on its own. The battle will beginning right after this but I hated to keep you guys waiting. I've probably already started writing the wrap-up for this arc before you guys finish reading this!
> 
> I want to apologize for the long wait, everyone. Between other hobbies that I do in my free-time, a writing block that had me all throughout March, and of course real-life events that have transpired since Chapter 5's release (cough cough covid-19) getting to this was just a very sluggish thing for me. I'm glad you guys are enjoying this though. I'll be posting the wrap-up, and at last, Kubo will be meeting with the boys!
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter nonetheless. The wrap-up for the kappa arc will hopefully be out very shortly!


End file.
